He had hoped so badly he was pregnant with twin foals. He was certainly big enough. Now, gripping tightly to the concrete barriers at the center of the four-lane highway, he knew it was one huge deer-clydesdale baby squeezing through his cervix.
A contraction washed over him and he groaned and pushed. Pain lanced through his groin. Headlights suddenly blasted him as a massive pickup truck laid on the horn and swerved around him in the dark.
“Fuck!” he squealed. He couldn’t climb over the concrete barrier—he shouldn’t have even tried to go this way when he was already in labor. Now he was stuck, forced to push in the middle of the road at 2am. He couldn’t even turn and walk back to the woods he’d stumbled out of. Tears streamed from his deep brown eyes as he pushed again.
Excruciating pain froze the breath in his lungs. He wanted so badly to scream and couldn’t. His large white tail lifted high, wet with birthing fluids, as his cunt beneath it began to bulge with the head of his baby. His slit wasn’t even beginning to open and yet already the head looked too big.
Headlights shone on him again and a midsize SUV slammed on the breaks. It stopped barely three feet from him, but he couldn’t even try to move.
“Oh my god, babe,” said a deep voice from the dark interior of the SUV. The windows were down. “You almost hit him!”
A shadow leaned out from the driver’s side window. “Hey hun,” an even deeper voice said. “You okay?”
“Forrest! Babe!” the passenger’s voice said in a strained tone. “I think he’s giving birth!”
“Shit. Come on.”
Blinking hazard flashers started illuminating the highway in steady pulses. The driver’s door and then the passenger door swung open and the driver and passenger approached. As they stepped into the view in the headlights the deer boy saw they were both bear men, dressed in flannels and boots. A black bear and a grizzly bear.
“Help me,” the deer boy whimpered.
“We’ve got you,” the black bear, the passenger, said, laying a big paw on his shoulder. “We’ll get you to a hospital.”
The deer boy shook his head but a contraction grabbed him, and he couldn’t get out more words. But the grizzly—Forrest?—crouched behind his tail and answered for him.
“It’s too late for a hospital, hun,” his very deep voice said. “You’re about to start crowning.” To the black bear man he said, “Get those sleeping bags out of the trunk.”
“It hurts,” the deer boy whimpered.
“It’s big,” Forrest said. He laid his massive paws on the deer boy’s hips to steady him. “It’s really big. Are you having a contraction?”
The deer boy nodded, his jaw clamped tight with pain.
“Okay, push for me.”
And he pushed.
The grizzly rubbed his hip. “Good boy. I can just start to see the baby’s head.”
The black bear reappeared and unrolled a sleeping bag on the cracked pavement. He knelt on it.
“Keep pushing,” Forrest said. “Tell me when the contraction’s over.”
The deer boy continued pushing. The pain was just as bad, but now with the two bears helping it was…it was…
Bearable.
He let out a sound somewhere between a laugh and a sob. The contraction ebbed away. He exhaled. “It’s gone.”
“Okay, lean on me. We’re going over to Craig.”
With Forrest’s help, the deer boy staggered to the sleeping bag where the black bear waited. The grizzly handed him off to Craig, who lowered him to the ground.
“Knees up,” Forrest said, pushing on the deer boy’s ankles all the way up to his aching ass. “Spread wide. Up, Craig.”
Craig looped his hairy arms under the deer boy’s shoulders and lifted him slightly.
“Okay, push on the next contraction.”
The deer boy felt the next contraction building. “It hurts,” he moaned.
“I know, baby,” Craig said in his ear. “It’s really big. But you can do this. I’ve got you.”
“It hurts,” the deer said again. The contraction peaked and he began to push. “It hurts…ohhh god it hurts…it hurts so bad, ohhhhh, ohhhhhh—ohhhhh!”
“Shit,” Forrest muttered, his gaze steady on the deer boy’s cunt. It continued to bulge rounder and rounder, and his slit was barely open.
“It’s a foal,” the deer boy whimpered.
Forrest glanced at Craig.
“So he was a lot bigger than you?” the black bear asked, an edge of anxiety in his voice.
“Keep pushing,” Forrest said. “Craig, it’ll be okay. You have a litter. This is one big foal. The cubs will be smaller.”
“I need to push again,” the deer boy moaned. “Ohhh I can’t. It’s too big.” His contraction took over and he pushed. Agony swept through him. “Oh god—oh god! I don’t know if I can do it! I can’t! It’s too big!”
His slit began to press open into a teardrop shape. His tail strained and twitched under his half-lifted ass. Craig pushed from behind until his huge belly rammed into his upright knees. The pressure intensified.
“No! No! It’s too much!”
Forrest took his legs and pulled them open as far as they could go. “Push!” his deep voice commanded.
He had to. His body would have pushed even if he tried to stop. The pain and pressure were overwhelming but he couldn’t stop. Suddenly a new sensation crept into his purview and his eyes widened.
“Oh my god. I—I think I need to cum! Ohhhh I need to cum….”
“You need help?” Forrest asked. His big, powerful paw gripped the deer boy’s wrist and guided his hand down, around his belly. “You’re already hard, hun. Touch yourself.”
The deer boy’s hand scrambled in the area. He felt the wet hair from his emerging foal, and his hard tdick. As soon as his fingers brushed against his tdick, a powerful shock of arousal zinged through his body, and he shuddered with the heady feeling. He was so close and he hadn’t even realized it.
“Push and touch yourself,” Craig said in his ear.
He did. He pushed on his foal and tugged desperately at his tdick.
“Oh my god,” he moaned. “It feels so good…”
“Good boy,” Forrest said, his eyes fixed on the deer boy’s cunt. “Just like that. Push.”
He laid his head back on Craig’s shoulder and pushed, and stroked himself. A desperate keening sound began to come from his mouth.
“Good boy, you’re crowning. Push, push!”
He squeezed his eyes shut, lost in the stretch and his impending orgasm. His cunt stretched impossibly as the head emerged slowly to a full crown. But his contraction died away.
“No, no!” he wailed as his arousal ebbed away with the fading contraction. He pushed, and nothing happened.
“No pushing without a contraction,” Forrest commanded. The deer boy quailed at the grizzly’s deep voice.
“I need to cum so bad,” he moaned. “I need to foal.”
“I know, baby,” Craig said soothingly. “Just a little longer.”
The next contraction began to mount.
“It’s coming back!” the deer boy said. He stroked his tdick and felt the tingle of arousal come rushing in again. “I’m so close!” He laid his head back on Craig’s shoulder. “Oh god—I have to push! I’m pushing!”
He pushed. His body lurched, and the head of his foal burst out of him. He came hard and screamed, and the strength of his orgasm pushed out the shoulders.
“One more!” Forrest said. “Push!”
The deer boy pushed, and came again, and foaled his baby out onto the sleeping bag on the side of the highway. It looked practically as big as his entire torso.
“Oh my god—oh my god!” he squealed. “That came out of me??”
“Meet your fawn,” Forrest said, gently picking the half-horse, half-deer baby up in his enormous paws.
The bears bundled him into the back of their SUV and the deer boy held his fawn close to his chest. Craig helped him deliver his afterbirth on the way to the hospital.
He named the baby Crest, after the bears who helped deliver her.
Deeply stupid question, but how are the birth kinksters finding each other? I know how I found people - because I remembered blogs I used to follow, or even old classic posts, and could search them up, re-follow, and then eventually train Tumblr to show me more inteconnected/related blogs - but with the kink tags not working, how are newer users being found/finding each other?
kink tags DO work somewhat. not entirely, but enough to get you at least started. every time you find a birth blog you like (clearly you already have found at least 1 birth blog since you are on my blog), go through and note everyone they reblog from and see if any of them are any good. when you find a post you like, open the notes and see if anyone reblogged it tagged "#birth" or something similar, and then go through that person's tag to see if they have found any posts that you haven't seen yet.
the birth kink community is a small one. there are only (very very approximately) a dozen or so blogs that i follow and go through regularly, and maybe another dozen or so blogs that aren't my taste that i don't go through regularly. it's very possible that the problem isn't that you can't find people, it's that there aren't many people to find. if you have a particular type of content in mind or a specific niche, and you aren't able to find someone who is posting that, my greatest recommendation is to just make the content yourself. that's what i did and how i got here. and i'm very glad i did :)
that said, here are some blogs i like (in no particular order):
labourink - mostly reblogs, willing to RP
thepregkeeper - mostly preg, but some birth too. mostly reblogs
exponenshul - blog that i found literally while i was making this list lol, apparently writes a lot of original medium-length stories about preg and birth
wellbredcatboy - mostly reblogs, somehow manages to find all the great posts, definitely a good place to start if you're looking to find more blogs
bulgingpushh - great for the kinkier side of things: tearing, medfet, incest, parasites, cnc/fictional noncon, tho generally untagged so proceed with caution. short form original writing + roleplay. mpreg
boyprxgg - medium length original writing, more preg focused than birth, but i honestly didn't even notice that until i skimmed thru his blog again to add to this list lol. generally if you like my posts you'll like his posts. underrated af. mpreg
endlessly-burning - short form original writing
angelbirth - infrequent but high quality original content
its-crowning - not insanely active but not inactive either. lots of original short/medium length writing. very good ideas, one of my faves. mpreg
screamingandwhelping - monsterfucking/egg/nonhuman focused birth blog, including sometimes long form. mpreg
bigbellybreedee - includes ovi sometimes; willing to RP. mpreg
flower-kits - big petplay enjoyer. willing to RP. trans preg
gravidy-falls - old man enjoyer, monsterfucking, ovi sometimes. mostly reblogs. mpreg
tumadmirer - mostly preg but some birth. mostly medium/long original writing + reblogs. gender neutral?
softroundbunny - mostly preg but some birth. good if you're into the softer or more aesthetic side of things
let-me-fill-you - preg, fat, and vore. genuinely dont remember if they post birth or not. but he reblogs some good stuff
whilefoolish - preg focus. mpreg
stupidlypregnant - birth, birth denial, preg. short form original content. mpreg
Layla's been having the best sleep of her life these past few weeks. Wonder why that is...
Original on Ao3
CW: Tentacle Sex, Noncon/rape, Somnophilia, Egg Laying, Eggpreg, Oviposition, Forced Pregnancy, Unaware Victim, Public Humiliation, Semi-public Birth, Orgasmic Birth, Aphrodisiacs, AFAB Main Character
Word count: 2,089
It’s night, quiet in the little apartment. Save for the soft and groans of a woman resting peacefully unaware of what was happening in the waking world.
In her dreams, she saw men thrusting inside her. An orgy occurring over and over, all stuffing her with cum and pushing her to the edge. Outside, in her bedroom, a mess of tentacles was tediously preparing her.
This monster was currently six tentacles deep inside, large enough to fit a soda can. Not that the woman was aware. She was comfortably asleep, a soft moan leaving her lips every so once in a while in time with the unequal thrusting into her hole.
The monster was very happy with how its current victim has come along. They had spent the past few weeks slowly opening her up without her ever waking up or concerning herself with how slick and sensitive her pussy was when she did. Instead, the woman seemed to have enjoyed it’s nighttime defilement. She had woken every day this week to immediately masturbate herself dumb before going to work.
The monster had purred in delight at that. It’s victims had usually raised some level of suspicion after a while, but not her. It remembered it’s first night with her, how it was unsure she’d ever be a good fit to fill with their young. It couldn’t even fit one of its smallest tentacles inside her without constant soaking of its natural lubricant.
Now look at her, taking six of its largest, now adding a seventh. Each tentacle that thrust inside her secreted a slick liquid that left her pussy quivering for more. And tonight, more would come.
The sleeping woman moaned a bit louder and writhed in the monsters hold. It was time.
With a squelch and wet pop the tentacles retreated out of her cunt. A soft whine escaped the woman’s lips. Whatever dream she was having had turned sour with the loss.
Not to worry, the monster thought, you’ll be satiated soon enough.
The largest tentacle the monster had emerged from its squirming form, the appendage it had been preparing the woman for this whole time.
Slowly, fully soaking itself in its slimy fluids, the monster entered her once more.
The woman moaned. Legs subconsciously opening wider to accommodate such a large intrusion. She pants harder as the thick tentacle continues moving farther than any tentacle had previously.
“Ahhhh-hahhhh! Ahhh!”
She gasps, eyes squeezed shut as it comes in contact with her deepest region. The prize the monster had sought after for so long: Her womb.
It presses further, deeper. Its tapered end pushing inside and working its way inwards. The lubricant gushing out and preventing the woman from feeling anything but sudden pressure and fullness.
“Ahhhhh-haaaaaa-hmmm. Mmmmm”
The monster takes a break to let the woman calm down. She was softly moaning and twisting her body, still asleep but close to release. It would be a shame if all this work was ruined now.
With an inhuman grunt, a series round orbs begin to make their way through the tentacle and into her cunt. Eggs. Their round bodies could be seen disappearing inside her and slowly protruding her abdomen. Pushing each other around to make room inside her womb. The monster lost count after a dozen went inside, but the woman takes them all.
She’s moaning desperately despite it all, on the edge of release. Her pussy quivering in time with each egg pushing inside, but unable to get the sensation just right in order to cum.
Maybe if the monster stayed longer and played with her cunt some more it could maker her cum. But alas, that’s not why it was here and morning was soon to arrive.
When the last of it eggs had pushed inside, it retreated its ovipositor. The monster was saddened that it would be unable to see its offspring emerge into the world, but content to know they would come out safely far from here.
The monster quirts a bit more of its juice on her pussy, just as a last second treat, and exits the apartment through her open window. Leaving the woman dripping in it’s slick and completely unaware of what had happened or what was in store for her.
The following afternoon, we now see our victim working in the office. Her actual name is Layla and she’s still pondering how strange her morning was. First, she had the most intensely pleasurable dream of her life. It had left her breathless and a shaking mess when she woke, but she hadn’t actually cum. Or at least, she hadn’t think she had. The slick mess between her legs proved that she had at least been overwhelmingly aroused that much was certain.
This sort of wake up had been happening to her for about almost a month now. These lewd dreams she had never had before and sudden need to get off had been so strange.
Layla bit her lip, despite how off putting this change in her “routine” had been, she couldn’t deny that it wasn’t unwelcome. The only difference this morning had been in comparison to previously was the sudden weight she felt in her stomach -err, abdominal area.
She wasn’t quite sure what to call it, but looking in the bathroom mirror that morning had proven she had gained a considerable amount of weight seemingly overnight. Luckily, this was a more casual office and she was allowed to wear a nice cardigan sweater to cover the swell. Everyone in the office had noted the change from her usual attire and had complimented her accordingly.
Layla’s cheeks burned. She wasn’t used to that kind of attention. Or any really. Quentin at the front desk had given her a special look along with his compliment. Almost perusing her body for some fantasy later. Layla shook her head at such thoughts. Quentin was far too nice and professional to be thinking like that. She was just becoming to horny for her own good. The hot pulse in her pussy agreed.
Layla squeaked at that. She could feel a bit of slick forming through her panties, her arousal seemingly increasing out of nowhere. A lurch of her newly swollen abdomen and thrumming heat told Layla she needed to make her scarce, fast.
Layla quickly and as quietly as possible got up to head towards the bathroom. Maybe her lewd mornings were making there way towards her afternoons. Maybe she just needed to quietly touch herself in the bathroom. Hoping nobody would hear her. Or walk in. Forcefully spread her open and pound her needy cunt until she begged for released.
Another surge of pleasure rushed through her, this time a yelp escaped her lips. Legs knowcked together and she had to press her hand against a nearby wall to stay upright. Her pussy was so wet right now, she didn’t think she could make it to the bathroom.
Layla scanned the area quickly, there! An empty meeting room. It didn’t have any windows and she’d be able to lock the door. Perfect. All she had to do was—“Layla are you alright dear?”
Layla turned. Mrs. Baker. Old, kind, sweet, Mrs. Baker was currently Layla’s only obstacle to getting to safety.
“Umm, I-I—” Layla stammered, another pulse of heat moved through her and se stepped back. She needed to get away before she made a fool of herself.
“You look terrible. You’re shaking like a leaf.” Mrs. Baker took hold of Layla’s hand. “And you have a fever! You need to sit down before you pass out.”
I-Mrs.Baker, I need to-“ Before Layla could even begin to explain herself her eyes turned glassy. Her pussy quaked and her head tilted back. A euphoria of pleasure washed through her and she felt a pop something inside herself seemingly released.
When Layla came back to herself, she could only assume the depraved noises that came out of her mouth as she saw the look of shock on her colleagues face. On everyone’s faces.
Layla turned and ran straight to the meeting room, locking the door behind her. Damn trying to explain herself. She needed to get her pants off now.
Layla plopped herself down on the floor, quickly flinging her pants off and surprised to find how wet they were. More surprisingly she felt a sudden lurch and squirming within her abdomen.
“Ahh!”
A cramp squeezed through her. What’s happening to me?! Layla’s thoughts screamed. But, soon another blissful euphoria pulsed through her and she felt as something exited her womb.
“Ohhhh-hmmpppph” Layla stuff her cardigan into her mouth hoping to muffle her pleasurable noises. This next cramp was far more pleasurable than the last. But now she realized they weren’t cramps, they were contractions. She was giving birth.
Knock! Knock! Knock! “Layla are you in there? Are you alright?”
Oh god no! Layla squeezed her eyes shut and spread her legs. The contractions were in full force now, each bringing her so close to orgasm. She could feel the squirming creature within making it way through her cunt slimily clawing its way out.
Her body shook and her thrust back in the full force of an orgasm as the creature pushed out of her pussy. Layla breathed heavily and only had a second to see what had come out of her before another contraction overtook her mind.
What she saw was an amalgamation of tentacles and slime no discernible features otherwise. It’s body had pulsed in colorful light that made it hard to actually discern what it was. Figuring out what she was giving birth to could wait. Birthing one of these monstrosities seemed to have made room for the rest to come out.
Pleasurable agony wrecked through Layla’s body as the “babies” moved through. Plopping out of her in a sickening squelch. She had tried to keep count of how many, she really had. But every time one exited her mind became numb to everything around her as another orgasm overtook her.
By the time it was over Layla was no longer upright against a wall, but tumped over on the ground, twitching in the aftershocks of seemingly endless orgasm. As Layla slowly came back to herself, she felt her pussy gape, trying to close around nothing, and the small puddle of drool that had formed under her face.
When she finally got up to look around, she was shocked to see that the monsters she had just gave birth to, were gone. Not a trace of what she went through was left, save for soaked through clothes.
Bang! Bang! Bang! “Layla! We found the keys to the room! If you don’t answer right this second we’re coming in whether you like it or not!”
Whatever trance Layla was stuck seemed to snap at that. She quickly put her clothes back on and opened the door to the faces of her concerned colleagues.
She spent the next few minutes in a daze as each of them questioned her and tried to figure out what just happened. It was her boss, Cara Miller, that ushered her away and into her office.
“I don’t know what happened today, but I think you should take some mental health leave.” She said in a calm manner. “And when you come back, we’ll all pretend this never happened, okay?”
Layla could only quietly agree and left to take her leave. She was only thankful for the fact that due to her tear stained eyeliner and muffled cries, the only thing any one could come up with was that she had mental breakdown in the office. Who could possibly come up with the real reason she had locked herself in an empty meeting room for twenty minutes.
It was long after the day had ended. Layla had long left the office, snug and safe in her apartment. Cara, her boss, was still working though.
The whole ordeal with Layla today had left everyone shook. She didn't blame them, of course. But they were behind and she needed to pick up the slack. That how Cara found herself in the office, blissfully unaware as a small slimy creature crawled its way towards her.
The liquid it secreted was different than that of its adult form, only numbing flesh it touched. This was important to be aware of as Cara never felt the thing as it crawled up her leg and inside her pussy. Sneaking safely inside her womb to release at a later date.
Do you have any mutual birth recs?? They don’t have to be just tumblr! I loved your recent writing and it’s my faveeee trope, I feel like it’s not written enough!
Hi anon!
Thanks for the kind words re my writing, I’m glad people liked it. Yeah it’s one of my fav tropes too, I think because it usually leads to a bit of birth denial from the mother, no physical stopping of the birth or anything, just loadssss of trying to delay the inevitable and the primal call of nature as they are focussing on someone else’s birth. It’s a perfect combo.
Anyway, here’s some of my recs that contain mutual labour/birth…. (in no particular order)
~*~
This post, by @hush-writes-preg
(Three heavily pregnant women trying to deny the fact they’re in labour during a quarantine / medical setting)
This story posted on @imagineyourepregnant
*Top tier mutual birth with birth denial* Ob-gyn in labour while delivering a patients baby. Fav
Labor Crisis by @birthedstars
A heavily pregnant doctor with triplets denying she’s in labour while she tends to other women giving birth.
This post by @morethanoverdue
Too Late To Reschedule by @bumpsandpushes
Absolute all time fav and imo the crème de la crème of this trope! I think this was the fic that made me love the idea of mutual preg. Cannot recommend this author enough. 💜
Same Boat by @gravid-transluna
Amazing writer in the birth kink sphere, highly recommend their work.
A Truer Dream by exponenshul (deviantart)
Mother-Daughter Day by doombez (deviantart)
This one gives me Father of the Bride Part II vibes, with the mother and daughter both pregnant and the birth scene.
Hi! I've added another chapter in my Ao3 series: Lorem Ipsum.
It's a series I started whose purpose is to be the place where all my twisted thoughts and ideas that I end up weaving into stories stay hidden into. 🤭
I'm sorry for the long hiatus for those who have been asking, but here it is. I hope you guys enjoy it!
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the
Organization for Transformative Works
I went to the gym to workout at 3 a.m because there is barely anyone there. I usually see this one lady who looks like she can be due at any moment around that time as well. Well this time I haven’t seen her and thought it was a bit odd. After my workout I went to the locker room to take a shower. The shower next to mine was on too. I hear weird noises. I ignore it but then I hear grunting. I notice they forgot to lock the door. I carefully open to take a peak. There I see the lady I usually always see, she’s standing with her hands on both sides of the wall and legs spread. “Are you okay” I ask. She gets startled and looks at me and says “it’s…it’s oooooo….coming”. I rush in there and lock the door behind me. “You’re pushing?!” I say. “Mmmhmm” she nods. I help hold her up from behind. “Help me push please” she moans at me. How did she know I wanted to watch her push. “Keep the shower on so no one hears you pushing in here” I tell her. “Mmhmm ok…oooo it’s so biiiiig” she grunts. “Push. Push hard” I tell her. We sit on the floor with her back against my chest while I hold her. She bares down and pushes. “Good, keep pushing” I say. “Ooo I feel it…..ooo I feel it”. I look down and see it’s a huge egg trying to come out. I only see it barely because it’s too big. “ITS TOO BIG” she screams.
What would you do if I forced you to sit while you're in labor so you don't give birth until I let you
oh god 😩 I'd moan and wiggle, trying my hardest to push out the huge baby you left in me, but it would be useless as my parting lips would be met with a hard chair. I'd be left a crying, wet mess as I struggle to birth your huge offspring, fluids dripping down my legs and onto the floor. I sob, begging you to let me push "p-please!! it's too big!! HELP ME- GET IT OUT!!" I'd beg, just for you to laugh in my face, telling me to get comfy. it's gunna be a long night 💦
The lights above flickered softly in the quiet delivery room. It was oddly peaceful for once—no beeping monitors, no hurried footsteps, no screaming mothers. Just the soft hum of the air conditioner and the steady rhythm of her own heartbeat.
Nurse Alina exhaled slowly, her hand rubbing slow circles over the crest of her belly. The contraction was mild—tight and low like a dull belt around her hips. Her due date was today, and she had finally, finally been told to rest after a long week of active shifts.
Her feet were propped up, shoes off, and her ID badge rested against the firm rise of her stomach. Alina shifted slightly in the chair, biting her lower lip as another wave passed over her.
“Okay,” she whispered, “just Braxton Hicks. You’re not coming out yet. Mama needs to rest.”
But the peace shattered like glass.
BZZZT—BZZZT—BZZZT!
The emergency alarm blared overhead. The red lights spun furiously in the hall beyond the door. Her radio crackled violently to life:
“Multiple casualties incoming! Traffic collision. Severe trauma. ORs at max prep. ALL STAFF—report to Emergency immediately.”
She froze.
Her belly tightened sharply.
“No… no no no.” She sat forward, breathing through her nose. “I can’t just sit here…”
She grabbed her coat, pulled her shoes back on with effort, and hauled herself to her feet. Her lower back ached, and she swore the baby shifted lower with that movement. But her legs moved. She was still standing. Still strong.
Alina stepped into the hallway just as a blur of white coats and scrubs tore past her. The energy was already electric. Sirens screamed outside the ER entrance. Doctors were shouting orders. Trolleys wheeled past. She took off running, one hand holding her heavy stomach, the other gripping the edge of the wall as she joined the chaos.
She reached the ER just as the stretchers started rolling in.
A boy—about twelve—face bloodied, arm mangled. She knelt beside him immediately, checking his vitals, her breath shallow as her belly clenched again, deeper this time. The pain burned under her navel, but she forced her hands to stay steady.
“BP’s dropping,” she called to a young intern beside her. “Get fluids going now.”
They moved fast, adrenaline masking her discomfort. The room pulsed with motion, and she stumbled toward the next patient—a man with broken ribs, a cracked femur.
But as she turned him gently to examine his back, her knees buckled.
“Nnnngh—ah—” Alina clenched her jaw and staggered against the bed as a real contraction hit. Her belly went rock hard. Her thighs trembled.
Another nurse noticed. “Alina! Are you okay?”
“I’m fine!” she snapped, sweat already forming on her brow. “Help me stabilize his leg!”
But her body wasn’t fine.
Every step she took became heavier. Every breath shallower.
Her underwear felt damp. She ignored it.
Another patient—this one unconscious, bruised, pale. She moved around to adjust the IV—and froze.
Her belly dropped.
Like a weight descending.
Her baby had moved into position.
“N-No…” she whispered, gripping the edge of the bed. Her legs spread instinctively, hips straining to bear down as her body betrayed her. “Not now—please—”
A contraction slammed through her—real labor now. No question. Her knees shook violently. Her water hadn’t broken yet, but the pressure deep in her pelvis was mounting like a tidal wave.
The doctor beside her glanced at her. “Alina, you need to lie down. You’re—”
“I SAID I’M FINE!” she barked, louder than intended.
But then—
POP.
A gush of warm fluid spilled down her thighs, soaking her underwear and pants. She gasped sharply, grabbing the edge of the monitor cart for support.
Everyone paused.
She stood there, panting, soaked to the knees.
The next contraction hit like fire.
“AAAAHN—ah—ahh god—!”
Her knees buckled.
“ALINA!”
“I—” Her fingers clawed at the cart. “Don’t stop! Just… get that patient stable—!”
But her legs trembled so hard she could barely stay upright. Her breath turned ragged, coming in sobbing gasps.
The baby was coming.
She felt it—deep between her thighs, bulging lower, pressing fiercely. Her belly was hard, stretched to its limit.
And yet—she looked up.
The young boy she’d helped earlier was crashing again. His monitor flatlined briefly.
Alina growled through her teeth and stumbled toward his bed, dragging her wet steps behind her, one hand between her legs.
She leaned over him, chest heaving, as her body tensed violently.
Another contraction built, and this one pushed her.
“NNNNGH—AaaaAAHHh!!”
She trembled all over, her body locked in a full shudder. Her knees shook so hard she couldn’t stand. The pain ripped through her core.
“THE BABY—” she gasped, “he’s coming—out—nggh—”
Her pelvis tilted forward involuntarily. She dropped to her knees beside the boy’s bed as doctors rushed to her.
A scream tore from her throat.
“AAAAAAGHH—IT’S CROWNING—!”
They tried to help her lie back, but she grabbed the edge of the bed and pushed.
Her whole body convulsed. She sobbed, trembling from scalp to ankles as the baby moved down. Her belly quivered. Her thighs opened.
“HE’S RIGHT THERE—JUST ONE MORE PUSH! NNNNNGHHH—Aaaaaah—AAAAHh—”
Her vision blurred. Everything went white-hot.
Her lower back arched.
The baby’s head slid out between her soaked pants, forcing her legs wide. She screamed again, raw, loud, primal—startling even the other patients.
The head was out. Panting. Shaking.
Then one more push—
“NNNNNNNGGGHHHHHH!!!”
The shoulders twisted out, and the baby slipped into her pants.
The room went silent.
Alina collapsed backwards, bringing the baby against her chest, sobbing in both relief and exhaustion. Her legs were still trembling violently, birth fluid soaked into the tile below her.
The young boy’s heart monitor chimed—stable again.
The baby gave a cry. Alive. Healthy.
Alina laughed weakly, brushing damp strands from her forehead. “Guess we both saved someone today… didn’t we?”
Doctors kneeled beside her, already wrapping her in blankets, lifting her gently to a stretcher.
A bodyguard and his charge are secretly dating and expecting their first child. But as Melissa approaches her due date, things take a dramatic turn at her father’s campaign rally….
Story co-written by the incredibly talented @wootenbassett75 and will be posted in parts to his DA account here
~•~
His suit was pressed, and his gun fastened to his hip beneath the jacket. Victor had been in the bodyguard game for nearly a decade now, yet none of his previous gigs compared to his current. For the past year, he had been on the personal detail for Senator George Matthews. Well, not his detail, but that of his daughter. At first he had regretted it, seeing this as a glorified babysitting duty for some spoiled politicians kid that had never been told no. Oh how wrong he’d been.
It all started ten months earlier, a Christmas party her father had been holding for his campaign supporters. Up to that point, he had mostly avoided conversation with Melissa, finding the fierce independence she had as a nuisance. She hadn’t wanted a bodyguard, and apparently only relented due to her fathers position making them all potential targets of groups that had less than savory intentions. At the party though, something happened. Victor didn’t know what, but one thing led to another and they spent the night together, then the next week, it happened again, and again, and again. Before long they were having their secret love affair whenever they could get away. All seemed well, till those two pink lines appeared.
She was pregnant, and Victor was the father. They couldn’t come out and say it, he’d never get to keep his job. So, she claimed it was a fling, a one night stand with a man she didn’t recall the name of. Her father had been furious, but eventually relented. Now months later here they were. He tried so hard to be with her at all times but it didn’t work. At the hotel he wasn’t able to sleep in her room due to the constant eyes of the press. He’d protested about her even coming, the baby was due soon, this party was the last place she should be. But he had a job to do, and there was no way he could convince her or her father otherwise.
Victor pulled out his copy of her room key, and entered. “Melissa?” He called out. “You awake? The party is already starting.”
“I’ll be out in a minute.” Melissa said from the en-suite of her hotel room, leaning against the sink and shifting her hips side to side.
After arriving at the hotel mid-afternoon Melissa had disappeared to her room to take a nap; being 39 weeks pregnant and carrying the weight of a bowling ball in her pelvis all day was exhausting, so she took the opportunity to rest before the event tonight. She only managed to get an hour or two rest before she was awoken by a dull ache cramping across her womb and the need to use the bathroom.
On pulling down her clothes and sitting on the toilet she soon discovered she had lost her mucus plug. Part of Melissa was excited at the sign that she was nearing the birth of her child. But the timing wasn’t great. Her father’s campaign was reaching its pivotal point and it felt like every other day she was required at some event or another, helping to create the perfect family image, to aid her fathers bid for Senate.
They were hoping she’d go overdue to when all the craziness of the campaign was over, so she and Victor could disappear for a few days and have their baby together. Melissa clung firmly on to that plan, determined to get through this final week.
After discarding her ruined underwear she quickly showered and freshened up, wrapping the fluffy white hotel towel around her swollen body. She felt another dull ache ripple through her middle and leant against the sink taking slow breaths. That's when she heard Victor enter her hotel room. After the practice contraction ended she waddled out of the en-suite, towel still wrapped around her, and saw him standing there in his suit for the party tonight.
“Don’t you look handsome this evening.” She said, smiling brightly.
Victor chuckled. “And you look like you’re glowing.” In the privacy of this room, he had no hesitation walking up to her, placing both hands on her towel wrapped bump, and planting a kiss on her lips. Beneath his hands he could feel that slight tightening, but having been unable to read any of the pregnancy books thanks to an overly nosey roommate, he thought that was just some kicks. “I see our girl is anxious about the party too.” He knelt, and gently opened the towel so he could see the soft flesh of her belly. “Behave in there lil Miss. Mommy has to give a speech tonight.” Victor kissed her navel and stood. “You did remember your speech right? You dads staff will have a heart attack if you wing it like you did in that last party.” A fond memory, watching her fathers upity speech writer lose his mind.
Victor walked to her bed, keeping one hand on the small of her back to guide. None of the dresses seemed like they would be comfortable in his mind, but he knew very little of women’s fashion. That being said, he’d never seen her more comfortable than in one of his tshirts and sweat pants with a tub of ice cream balanced on their daughters dwelling.
“Yes, yes, I remembered the speech. It’s in my handbag somewhere…. I think.” Melissa added with an uncertain giggle as she lowered herself onto the edge of the bed.
The second her weight transferred onto the mattress a small hiss slipped from her mouth and she immediately lifted and adjusted her seated position. “Oooof— she’s tucked so damn low it feels like I’m sitting on something.” She joked.
Melissa closed her eyes briefly, exhaling heavily, before opening her eyes and running her hand over her towel-clad belly. “I’m not sure any of the dresses I’ve brought for tonight are even going to fit. I’m huge. Could you get the black one from my bag please? I think that’s my best bet. You’re definitely going to have to help me get dressed.” A smirk flashed across her lips.
Victor returned the look, then shook his head. “Of course I’ll help you baby.” He said, moving to grab the dress. He removed it from the back, he’d seen her wear this one before, months ago, when she was far smaller. They were going to be lucky if they didn’t have to cut this off of her when the party was over. He saw some other items that he was unsure if she’d be planning to wear, so grabbed them too. When he returned he had the dress as well as panties, a bra, and pantyhose. “No funny business ma’am.” He winked. If Victor was honest with himself, she carried pregnancy so well that it somehow made her even more attractive. It’d led to some adventures beneath the sheets. “What first?”
Melissa winced a little as she adjusted her position on the side of the bed, the baby determined to stay nestled right between her hips making it impossible to find any sort of comfort.
“Underwear first please.” She said, pleasantly surprised Victor had managed to select a matching set that was also black to go with the dress. Throwing open her towel in a casual fashion, Melissa then tried and failed to stand up. Scoffing in annoyance she took the garments from Victor and proceeded to put her underwear on as much as she could while sitting.
From the corner of her eyes she could see the smirk of amusement as Victor watched her struggle around her belly that was weighing heavily over and between her thighs.
“Don’t you dare laugh.” She playfully warned.
“Not a word.” He said, holding his hands up. The smile remained though. “Miss Independent, how about you ask the father of your child for a hand huh?” It wasn’t the first time he’d helped her, and certainly wouldn’t be the last. Victor took her hands, waiting till she gave the go ahead to pull her to her feet.
That discomfort in her face made him desperately wish he could take it away, but knew that there was nothing to be done until their little bundle made her grand appearance. An idea did come to mind though, one that could give temporary relief. Victor put her hands on his shoulders, then knelt to help her raise her underwear. Dirty thoughts came and went. Later, they’d have some fun later. He managed to get her panties on, then went to work on the pantyhose.
“Ah shit…” He grumbled, realizing once they were to her knees that they were apparently inside out. They both got a good laugh out of the mistake. All in all, dressing took almost thirty minutes. “You look beautiful.” He told her as they worked the dress. “Now turn around.” It wasn’t a suggestion. Victor turned Melissa so she faced away from him, slowly, he placed his hands on the underside of her belly, and lifted up. Videos circulating on the internet told him this would relieve some of the aches and weight temporarily.
“A pre party gift.” He whispered in her ear, planting a kiss on her cheek.
The sound that left Melissa’s lips as Victor gently lifted her swollen belly was low and full of blissful relief.
“Oh wow—” Her head tilted back, melting into his embrace as she was granted a temporary respite from the weight she’d been carrying. “I need you to never stop doing this…” She said with a soft giggle of amusement knowing full well they couldn’t navigate the evening in this position. Especially as no one knew of their relationship. They’d be lucky to get away with meaningful looks and a few subtle points of contact with all the eyes watching.
Reluctantly after a few minutes Melissa gave Victor a silent signal it was okay to let go and she braced herself for the weight and pressure to return to her hips. She didn’t bank on another cramp hitting at the same time and she groaned a little hunching over slightly. Attempting to walk off the seized muscles she waddled over to the desk to get her clutch, remembering to include her speech. “We are definitely doing that again later, that felt incredible. How did you know to do that?” She asked in pleasant wonder, her hand absentmindedly rubbing under her belly already missing the support of her partner’s hands.
“One of those internet things. ‘What to do for your pregnant partner’.” Victor explained. “It also had ‘make her favorite meals’, and ‘get her a pregnancy pillow’. You kinda beat me to both of those so, this was the next best thing. After the party I’ll give you a foot massage. Read that they can help this late into pregnancy. Lord knows heels look uncomfortable even at the best of times, I can’t imagine how irritating it’ll be for you to wear them with lil Miss in there.” To ease the amount of walking, he grabbed her handbag for her.
Together they walked to the door, his hand on her the entire time. Before reaching for the handle, Victor gave Melissa one last passionate kiss before they would practically be separated for the entire night.
“I love you, and our girl. Once this nights over we will do anything you want, promise.” With his proclamation said, Victor opened the door. The night would be simple, easy, just a little speech and he could sneak her away to relax and get out of her restrictive clothing. What he hadn’t told her yet, was that he had a little box in his pocket, and a hotel room reserved one town over with flowers, chocolates, and candles all laid out. Along with a note, one asking the question he should’ve asked the day she showed him the test.
Inside the lift going down to the ground floor Melissa looked in the mirror, adjusting her soft curls that skimmed her shoulders, ignoring the way her belly felt like it was tightening again. These braxton hicks had an annoying habit of happening at the worst time and she just hoped it wouldn’t happen while she was giving her speech.
She stepped closer to Victor, seeing their reflections in the mirror and wondered what their daughter would look like. Would she have her red hair, or her fathers blue eyes…
“One more week. Then my fathers campaign will be over and we can welcome our daughter into this world together.” Her voice was soft and quiet, as if worried someone would hear through the doors.
The lift slowed, approaching the ground floor where the event was being held. Facing the doors they stepped apart but kept their fingers linked, giving each other a loving smile before separating as the doors opened and their facade began.
Victor understood politics about as well as an ancient Roman would understand the use of smart phones. He knew there was a vote coming, and that Melissa’s father was predicted to win in a landslide, but he had no clue what his policies even were. As it was from the beginning of their relationship, Victors facial expression was that of perpetual boredom when he was working. Eyes scanned the crowd, hands at his sides and kept open in case quick access was needed to his handgun. Not that he would. Besides himself, Victor knew Melissa’s father employed four other private security guards for his staff.
“Another boring party eh?” Asked one of the guards, an older man with gelled back hair.
“Quiet nights make our job easier don’t they Felix?”
“True.” Felix said, his own body set to spring into action. “How’s Dandelion?” He asked, pointedly looking at Melissa as she socialized.
“She was fine. Just moving slow today.” Victor worked to keep his tone level. Felix was ex-military, Military Police to be specific. The man could sniff a lie from miles out. “Rooster and Hen?” Victor asked, steering the conversation away.
“Hen stayed in the room, turns out that it was the flu, not a stomach bug. Rooster is talking to campaign investors at your two o’clock.” Victor looked, and saw the Senator. “Head on a swivel tonight. Rumor has it he pissed off quite a few people with some announcement.”
“Will do.” Victor said, and left the veteran guard to his duties, moving to where he could watch the woman carrying his child speak with others till speech time.
Melissa moved around the hall with the social ease of a butterfly; although she had not followed in her fathers political footsteps and despised half the people in this room, her upbringing meant these formal events were second nature. Effortlessly navigating conversations, speaking with the relevant people, singing her fathers praises - being the perfect reflection of the perfect candidate.
Her pregnancy had initially caused a little controversy for the campaign but the negative press soon died out and now, being quite visibly heavily pregnant, everyone was fawning over the impending new child. It was almost impossible to get through a single conversation without someone touching her bump without asking or making some comment about her looking ready to ‘pop’. Melissa smiled falsely through gritted teeth, both from annoyance but also the persistent cramps that continued to plague her evening.
The dress was too tight, making her belly heavier and firmer beneath the black form fitting fabric. Pressing a hand into her aching lower back, she turned to find a comforting face through the crowd watching her silently. She smiled, feeling instantly more relaxed at the sight of Victor's dimples as he returned the smile.
“Hey!” A voice as piercing as the last time Melissa had heard it echoed through the room. Quickly approaching was one of the only people who was actually closer to her age than her fathers. “Melissa girl, I thought you were going to be held up in some hospital somewhere, look at you!” Genevieve Wilkins, or Evie as she preferred to be called, was a friend of Melissa’s from college. Her short pixie cut brunette hair gave her a tomboy look that did nothing to suppress her femininity.
She wore a pants suit, her press badge proudly on display for all to see. While they had known one another for years, even Evie was unaware of the childs true father. That didn’t stop the reporter making her attempts at guessing.
“You are looking great! I’m surprised to see you out and about. If I were as pregnant as you my ass would be on the couch watching tv and eating my feelings.” She smiled. “I know I ask every time we see each other but… cmon… an exclusive story for your best friend? The name of your babies father?” Evie was only half joking, such a story would make her career as a reporter in the political scene.
Melissa laughed at the audacity of her friend; she was like a dog with a bone when she wanted something. “Well….since you’re my best friend and all…” She said in a hushed voice, looking around them before leaning in towards Evie, opening her mouth with the distinct impression she was about to share a secret.
“…I’m still not telling you.” Melissa whispered into her friend's ear before laughing loudly, holding the swell of her bump that seemed to jolt with the laughter. Evie playfully swotted her shoulder, scowling with annoyance.
“Seriously though, I’m just not ready for that yet. I’m sorry.” Melissa made a conscious effort not to look towards where she knew Victor was standing nearby and watching, not wanting to give her friend any sniff of a story. Changing the subject she asked “Is the dress alright? It was the only option that still fit, this little one just doesn't stop growing. I feel huge. But I couldn’t miss the party tonight, Dad’s got me giving yet another speech.” She rolled her eyes, unconsciously shifting her hips a little as her back flared up again in discomfort, the tension wrapping around her sides and up her spine.
“I just need to get through this week. Oooof— One more week, then the campaign will be finished and I can focus on my little girl.” Her affection for the baby shone through her bright smile, hands cradling the underside of her belly as she spoke, rubbing away the tension that had caused a little moan to slip past her lips.
“Ugh, another speech. Of course.” Evie sighed. “Not that you are a bad speaker, it’s just, having you do all these speeches is dumb. Let a soon to be mom relax why don’t you.” The reporter didn’t seem to notice the moan, that or she assumed it was just one of the many joys of pregnancy. Constant discomfort. “When the time comes, I expect to be your first call girl. I have duties as favorite Aunt that I can’t properly fulfill if I’m not at the hospital to meet her.” Evie smiled, placing a comforting hand on Melissa’s arm. “And yes, that dress looks great on you. Shows off your curves just enough.” She winked, that playful nature ever present.
Meanwhile across the room, Victor was watching with bated breath. Evie, he only interacted with the reporter a handful of times. ‘Nosey’ was an understatement with that woman. He shifted his gaze momentarily, spotting the Senator and some other partygoers pouring glasses of scotch. God, he would kill for some alcohol, but that was one thing he’d sworn off. ‘If you can’t drink, then neither will I.’ Victor should’ve just gotten Melissa a puppy.
“Excuse me?”
Victor was pulled from his thoughts, a man dressed like the wait staff stood before him with a platter.
“Yes?”
“The party is running out of food already and the Senator requested that catering be ordered. Do you have the gate code so the delivery can come in?”
“Oh, uh yeah. #9921856. Then you press the unlock button and the back door opens.” Victor said, only half paying attention.
“Thank you sir.” The waiter said. In his distraction, Victor missed that the staff member with whom he’d just interacted with had no name tag, unlike all the others present.
While Evie was regaling the story behind her latest article, Melissa found herself zoning out a little, distracted by the tightening and heaviness of her belly. It wasn’t anything unusual, she’d been experiencing cramps sporadically ever since she reached 36 weeks, but she was starting to notice the frequency in each pulse of discomfort.
Nodding habitually along with Evie’s animated story, her hand moved across her belly and she felt it harden beneath her fingers. A sharp inhale pulled through her nostrils as the tension peaked and the baby shifted.
“C-can you hold my drink hun?” She interrupted her best friend, practically shoving her glass of sparkling water into Evie’s hand. “I need to nip to the bathroom. Baby’s pressing right against my bladder.” With a forced smile and lighthearted joke Melissa was waddling away before Evie had a chance to respond.
Thankfully the ladies bathroom was empty and Melissa sighed in relief as she went straight up to the sink and braced her palms against the counter, letting go of a quiet moan. “Oooohhh…..” Everything felt so tight and heavy, her hips moving in natural circles around the baby’s low position between her hips.
“Mmm… no, no…. Please just be false labour…. You don’t want to come now baby….” Melissa looked down at her body, speaking to the bump packed tightly into her black dress. “Your dad and I have everything planned for next week…. Stay safe in there a little longer for me sweetie.”
Her body responded with another sharp contraction, forcing Melissa to grit her teeth to stop any sounds from echoing around the empty women’s bathroom.
There were too many people. How hard could it be to keep track of a heavily pregnant redhead? Victor, after a solid ten seconds of scanning the crowd, relented.
“Oh hello handsome.” Evie said as he approached. “I assure you I’m allowed to be here, look, press.”
“I know. Where did Mel, I mean, where did Ms Matthew’s go?” There wasn’t panic in his tone, not yet at least. There was however, concern. He knew next to nothing about pregnancy and as a result immediately thought the worst could have happened.
“Oh! Her little one was dancing on her bladder.”
Victor nodded, and wove through the bodies of rich people till he reached the bathroom. An instinct he didn’t understand told him to go in, but logic prevailed. Others would notice if he went into the women’s restroom. So, he gingerly knocked on the door.
“Ms Matthew’s? Is everything alright?”
On hearing the knock Melissa’s head whipped towards the door, worrying for a split second someone would come in and see her leaning heavily against the sink and swaying her hips. That voice…his voice sent her heart fluttering despite the current cramp she was still trying to ride out.
“Yes, e-everything’s fine.” She said with a forced lightness, catching her breath as the discomfort eased away. It was just a few cramps, nothing to worry about and certainly nothing to warrant telling Victor. He faced danger and high stakes situations for a living, a trait she was forever in awe of, but she had the distinct suspicion he wouldn’t take even the hint of a suggestion of being labour very well. They had to keep up appearances, especially tonight at the campaign event, and she wouldn’t risk his career over a false alarm.
It took her another minute or so to be ready; smoothing her hair back into place and pulling her dress down from where it had ridden up from her swaying, but with a final glance at her reflection she pulled open the door and left the privacy of the restroom.
“If I can’t hide, neither can you.” Victor whispered when he saw her. She seemed, tired, but not like she usually was. Pregnancy exhausted her and he was used to that. Maybe their night out after this would just turn into a relaxing night in. “Baby girl irritating you? I can give her a firm talking to tonight.” A group of her fathers supporters got a bit too close so Victors demeanor quickly altered to that of the bodyguard.
People were attracted to his girlfriend like bees to honey, and as per usual, he was the invisible protector. The night continued, and Victor's eyes lingered on the woman who’d stolen his heart. There still seemed to be something off about how she acted. Perhaps the anxiety was finally getting to her, making her constantly rub her belly and sweat.
Melissa found herself needing a seat more often than she usually did during these events; her hips felt like they were carrying the weight of the world and these damn cramps just weren’t going away. She wasn’t timing them, couldn’t bring herself to admit that she might need to, but they were roughly happening every 15-20 minutes.
Perching awkwardly at the side of the stage on one of the high bar stools she read through her speech, trying to stop herself from cradling and rubbing at her belly. Her father was currently on stage giving his usual confident spiel to his enthusiastic audience, which was mainly filled with wealthy older men who donated generously to his campaign. Plus the press of course. She smiled seeing Evie standing front and centre with her dictaphone and notepad.
Another cramp seized her womb and Melissa nearly bent over in response, instead gripping her speech and the chair as she took slow and subtle deep breaths through the wave. It was just practice contractions….only practice… then why did the baby feel so damn low-?
When it came to speeches, the entirety of the security team became one cohesive unit. The Senators body man was on stage with him, remaining a few paces behind and off to the side. Felix was stationed opposite Victor, taking the stage left corner of the raised platform while Victor had the right. He knew Melissa was behind him, and that she was far more fidgety than he’d ever seen before. Over the last hour, Victor watched her like a hawk. Nothing was wrong that he could tell, but it certainly wasn’t right.
“Foyer secure.” Came a crackle over his ear piece.
“Upper floor access secure.” Another said. Victor, out of the corner of his eye saw Felix lift his cuff to his lips to whisper.
“Crowd shows no threats, but keep your heads on a swivel.” He said.
“Possible code red.” A voice said, Victor didn’t know the man’s name, but was aware of his credentials. If he was calling a code red, there was a problem.
“Details.” Felix growled, tensing. Victor did the same, his hands falling to his side.
“Kitchen door wide open. Tape over lock. Building is not secure, repeat, building not…” He was cut off, as if the microphone ceased all existence.
“I’m en route. Felix keep an eye on Dandelion.” Victor said, turning to move for the kitchen. He passed Melissa on the way, and in a moment of instinct, reached to squeeze her hand. “I’ll be right back.” He whispered, and disappeared into the back of the hotel.
Her eyes followed him as he rushed off out of sight, she didn’t even have a chance to ask what was happening. Melissa looked to the remaining security presence, at Felix, but his face was unreadable. Victor didn’t often leave her side, especially since she reached full term, and she wondered what called him away.
No one seemed nervous or on edge; her father was making jokes to the audience, the sea of people hanging on his every word. Perhaps it was just a staffing issue, Victor had been closest to the kitchens. She had more pressing things to worry about—
“Mmmh…” a groan rattled the back of her throat as her belly tightened once again. This time she placed a casual hand under it, hoping the movement looked absentminded and affectionate, keeping her face smiling and watching the stage. They were really starting to take her breath away now, that dull pulsing ache twisting into sharper more focused pulling. As she breathed her way through it she noticed her father wrapping up his speech and beginning her introduction.
It took more effort than she cared to admit to move herself off of the bar stool and across the stage to the podium. Each step she became more and more aware of where the baby was nestled, low and deep in her pelvis, her waddle more pronounced than ever.
“Thanks Dad.” Melissa said in range of the microphone, smiling as he kissed her cheek and passed the stage to his daughter. Her hands very quickly found the podium, leaning into it slightly to steady herself, her balance feeling off. Taking a deep breath, she said a silent prayer to her little baby “hold on a bit longer sweetie” before beginning her pre-written speech.
The kitchens were quiet, and that was the first sign that something was wrong. In his training to become a bodyguard, the instructors always said not to draw your weapon unless your charge becomes endangered. However, Victor was military before he was a bodyguard. That part of his brain took over.
“Al?” He called, using the echoes of his voice to cover the subtle scratching that was his handgun clearing the leather holster. There was a shuffling off to his left, the direction of the back door. Instinct and training had his pistol raised with his off hand supporting it in less than a second. The further into the kitchen, the more unsettling it became.
The first body was one of his fellow guards, the bruising around his neck a clear indication of how his life had ended. Victors heart began to pound, blood rushing in his ears as adrenaline flooded his system. Two more bodies, one whom was shirtless, with a name tag tossed onto his chest. The second was a woman, one that Victor knew from the profiling of the staff. She was the head chef. Victor lifted his sleeve to his mouth to speak, and that was when all hell broke loose.
The sounds were muffled, but Victor knew gunshots when they happened. On the off chance it wasn’t his hearing that told him, then the new ventilation in the sleeve of his jacket would make a fine confirmation. Pain lanced through his body, emanating from the graze that hit his left bicep. Three more shots came, all of them intended to kill, but Victor was gone. The bodyguard dropped to the floor, rolling onto his back and pulling the trigger. He missed, spotting his target duck into cover at the last second.
“Tangos in the kitchen!” He yelled into his sleeve. “Secure the family!” Two more sources of suppressed gunfire came at him, Victor giving himself covering fire as he moved to a counter for protection. “Felix! Do you copy?!”
Felix, couldn’t answer.
Out in the lobby, eight men stood. Felix was gone before he could even reach Melissa, and she was all alone atop the stage. The men wore masks, all identifying markers removed. Three had on wait staff clothing, explaining how one had gotten close enough to stab Felix.
“Ladies and gentleman!” One called out over the cries of alarm. When they wouldn’t be silenced, a single nod came and automatic gunfire peppered the ceiling. “Ladies and gentleman! I hate to interrupt your party, but there is business to be conducted.”
Gunfire echoed from the kitchen, from where Victor was. This didn’t phase the masked man. His eyes, were set on the heavily pregnant Melissa.
In the blink of an eye she had gone from giving a speech to frozen in fear. The room was deathly silent, no one daring to move an inch as the men with guns spread out across the room. Felix’s body was sprawled across the stage, the blood pulsing from his body and pooling towards her shoes.
Her gaze moved across the room, still gripping the podium and keeping her head and torso perfectly still. Where had her father gone? He’d stepped off stage when Melissa began her speech but she couldn’t see him or his bodyguard. The eyes of the armed man who spoke locked onto her making her skin crawl at the darkness behind them. Even though he was wearing a mask, she could tell he was smirking behind the fabric as he stomped towards her.
One of her hands released the podium, placing itself protective over her swollen belly, and she gulped nervously. “W-what do you w-want?” Her voice stuttered, failing to sound as strong as she wanted.
“Where is your father darlin’?” The man’s voice was low and gravelled but somehow purred with malicious intent.
Melissa opened her mouth but words failed her. Her heart thundered in her chest, eyes flicking sharply between his eyes and the gun in his hand that was poised directly at her. It felt like her lungs had stopped working, she couldn’t breathe. Another contraction tore through her body and she whimpered, cradling her belly and gripping the podium with white knuckles.
“WHERE is George Matthews?!” The man yelled across the lobby, stepping right beside Melissa and putting the gun against the side of her waist.
This close, she could smell his aftershave, the stink of his breath pungent with every syllable pronounced. There was two more shots from the kitchen, a cry of pain, followed by silence. Less than a minute later, two men emerged.
“Rest of the security is dead boss.” One said, nursing his arm. “Bastard killed Milo and Jamie though.”
“Then that shouldn’t stop you from FINDING THE SENATOR!” The leader shouted, pressing the pistol a little tighter to Melissa. “Search the building!” He pointed at Evie with his handgun. “You! You’re a reporter right? Make sure the world knows this is what happens when cowards are allowed on Capitol Hill.” One of the masked men ran up to him.
“Cops are on the way. Silent alarm was tripped.”
The leader growled. “Fine.” He said after a moment. “Three minutes, then we go plan B.” He got close to Melissa, inhaling deeply. “Shame on your daddy for leaving a girl to take a man’s punishment.” He said. “Don’t worry, we won’t hurt you too bad.”
The man’s hand gripped her bare arm, pressing the small circular barrel of the gun against her side. Those three minutes were the longest of her life as the other armed men searched the lobby and surrounding rooms for her father. The boss meanwhile had gotten closer, his body almost pressed against her side as she stood frozen on stage.
“You’re a pretty one, aren’t you.” He sneered quietly into her ear, his hand releasing her arm to stroke the soft curls of her auburn hair. “The photos don’t do you justice.”
“P-please…. I’m pregnant, don’t hurt my baby.” Melissa croaked.
“Oh I’m well aware of your… condition.” His hand travelled from her hair down the length of her body until it landed on the full swell she was carrying. “So big, bursting with new life. It's a shame their grandfather is a double crossing bastard.”
Melissa’s breath hitched with another contraction, grimacing and gritting her teeth as everything tightened and squeezed and pulled downwards. The Boss just took her reaction as one of fear, laughing as his hand splayed across her belly while the other kept firm on the gun pressing into her side.
She was trembling, paralysed by fear. She always thought she would be good in a crisis, headstrong and fierce, and yet now when the cards were down she couldn’t move. Begging to protect the life of her child.
Another masked armed man jumped up onto the stage. “Boss - we gotta go. Cops are getting too close.”
“Times up sweetheart.” The leader sneered, letting go of her belly and grabbing her arm once more. He looked out from the stage, at the sea of people now all on their knees cowering. “This is a message for George Matthews - If you ever want to see your daughter and grandchild again, you will reverse your decision and meet our demands!!”
The leader yanked harshly against Melissa, tearing her away from the podium which she was still gripping for dear life. She stumbled, knees threatening to give way.
“No! Please— you can’t do this—” she yelled as she tried to break free from his grip only for the other man to grab her other bicep. Together they dragged her stumbling off stage.
Every instinct was screaming at her to fight, to kick and punch and claw her way out but the men were too strong. Pulling her towards the door she could barely stay standing, her knees wide and shaking. Another agonising unyielding pressure wrapped across her middle and her cries of protest turned into groans of pain.
“Unhhhh— no— please don’t do this… don’t take me. I’m— I’m having a baby—” The admission came from her mouth without even realising, desperation forcing her to admit aloud that she was in labour.
But the true meaning of her words were lost to her kidnappers, thinking she was just referring to her very obvious pregnancy. “Shut up!” One yelled, while the other yanked her harshly through the doors and out of the venue.
They didn’t slow for her. The men practically forced Melissa to skip steps as they descended to the parking lot where the unmarked blue van awaited them. Every shove, every yank, all contributed to her already advancing labor. No one was going to save her, they’d said as much. The men from the kitchen, where Victor had gone, their words hung in the air. The bodyguard was dead.
The Boss shoved her, hard, into the van. Others piled in behind. Distant sirens echoed through the forest, the police, safety was almost there.
“Get moving!” The boss yelled to the driver, and the van jerked to life, screeching tires leaving two dark rubber lines on the road. They were underway. The boss looked at Melissa, and smiled, removing his mask. “You ain’t leaving till your old man reverses the choices…” His eyes dropped to her belly. “But I wonder how much extra he’d pay to save a grandkid.”
“Don’t touch me—” Melissa shrivelled back from the leader, using her feet to push herself into the corner of the van in an attempt to stop his giant hand from touching her skin. Every pore was sensitive and sweating, her breathing heavy and laboured through the ever increasing tightness wrapping across her middle.
With his mask removed she could see the unkept beard that framed his jagged face. But those eyes… the way he looked at her, the way his gaze travelled down her body.
Another contraction had her arms wrapped around her bump, bending forward slightly in her awkward seated position on the floor of the van. “Oooohhh….” A low moan slipped freely from her mouth as she breathed deeply through the intense feeling of her womb contracting. Why were they so intense… her hips were screaming at her to move but the guns pointed in her direction kept her in place. There was no denying it anymore, these pains were happening too often, too intensely. She was in labour…in labour and kidnapped. She was in labour, kidnapped, and the father of her child had just been murdered. The tears rolled silently down her cheeks as she moaned through the contraction.
“Stop your whining! We’re not even touching you!” One of the men, who had kept on his mask, snarled and lifted his gun towards her face to make a point.
“Whoa… hang on a sec Clyde.” The leader interrupted, looking curiously at Melissa. His large hand moved to her rounded stomach, splaying wide across its surface over the fabric of her black dress, feeling the hardened muscles beneath. Melissa’s breathing was heavy, terrified and struggling to get through the contraction without moaning.
“Fuck—” the man cursed with a gravelled voice.
“What’s going on back there Boss?” The driver called, taking a turn with enough speed to force the others to grab hold of the grips.
“This got much more interesting boys.” Boss said, a smile that would curdle milk directed right at Melissa. “Looks like this girl is about to give us another hostage.”
“What? Wait, she’s having the kid?!”
“Oh yes. And trying her damndest not to show it.” He began to rub her belly, the gun still trained. “Ain’t that right girly?”
“The hell are we doing here? We can’t have her do that in the van! Boss! We need to pull over.”
“No! We are going to the hideout. She can hold it till then.” Boss looked at her, now kneeling so he could lean close. The other men averted their eyes as he planted a kiss on her cheek. “Be good.”
“Fuck this. We need to reassess.” Clyde said. “Pull over!”
Despite the fury in the Boss’s eyes, the van pulled into a gravel cutout and turned off. The men filed out, some arguing. Boss lingered a moment, keeping his eyes on her like a stalker finally close enough to touch his obsession.
Melissa opened her mouth to speak, to plead with him to let her go, but all that came out was a low strained moaning sound as her belly contracted harshly beneath the weight of the Boss’s hand. The relentless pressure in her hips had Melissa pushing her hands into the cold metal floor of the van trying to ease the discomfort any way she could.
“Yesss…. Oh darlin’ you’re really havin’ this baby soon aren’t ya?” The leader’s voice was thick, captivated by what was happening right in front of him.
“I need a h-hospital— ooooohhh— please let me-go-unnnngh—”
“I’m not letting you out my sight sweetheart.” He crooned, his hand moving around in large circles over her belly as if committing this moment to his memory, the way her skin was so firm and taut beneath his scabbed fingers. “You look like you’re about to drop this kid any second. So full and round. And to think… your father made you come to his ridiculous party when you were so close to giving birth.”
He leaned in closer, the smell of his stagnant breath on her cheek making her want to vomit, and he whispered into her ear “…and I’m so glad he did.”
He bit her ear, tugging it ever so slightly before pressing his hand harder onto her belly. “Maybe I should check that progress for you. Papers said you ain’t got a man for the kid… I’ll step in.”
Outside, the arguing between the men continued, till from nowhere the revving of an engine filled the air. Through the open side door, Melissa watched three men disappear. A flash of light had preceded it, a car, travelling at insane speeds plowed through the three men. Cries of pain and agony were drowned by the screeching of tires.
“Boss!” Clyde called, one of three who hadn’t been hit. “Boss it’s the bodyguard!”
Gunshots followed immediately, hitting Clyde in the neck, his blood spraying out to cover Melissa and the Boss. The last two living kidnappers opened fire as well, but over the fight, one word could be heard, a man screaming a name.
“Melissa! MELISSA!”
That sounded like— no, it couldn’t be— Melissa’s head craned towards the side of the van to look through the open door trying to see the owner of the voice calling her name. The leader, covered in blood, caught her movements and shoved her back into the corner of the van.
“Oh no you don’t! You’re not going anywhere!” He spat, kneeling up, blocking her view out the door and gripping her harshly in place.
Yelling and more gunshots roared from beyond the vehicle, someone was fighting against her kidnappers, someone was helping. Even if it wasn’t Victor, even if he wasn’t dead, there was a small glimpse of hope and Melissa grabbed onto it tightly and screamed loudly.
“HELP!!! Help me please!” The air tore from her lungs, desperation to get away from this man pumping adrenaline through her veins.
The man smacked her across the face and covered her mouth with his dirty hand. Melissa pushed against him, clawing and biting to get free, drawing on some primal unknown strength to get to safety…to get to whoever might be helping her. But another contraction twisted her insides, drawing her knees up towards her belly as she curled forwards and groaned into her attacker’s palm. It was too much; the pressure, the tightness, the pain coursing between her hips and shooting up her spine. It was overwhelming. Her vision blurred with unshed tears, the contraction reaching its peak, and she didn’t see the shadow now standing in the doorframe.
Victor appeared as a specter. In the hotels kitchen he’d been shot in the arm and had another bullet graze his head knocking him unconscious. Upon waking, he’d found and killed the kidnapper whom had been sent to find the Senator. From there it was all a blur, pain and excruciating fear for a life not his own drove him into the parking lot as the kidnappers had escaped. He barely recalled breaking into a car and stealing it, all he saw was red.
Now here he was, out of ammo, yet full of rage.
“Hey!” He growled, and with practiced ferocity, grabbed ahold of the Boss’ belt and collar, using his adrenaline to throw the man out of the van and into the road with his dead comrades. The boss’s gun went with him. Victor advanced, knowing he needed to check Melissa but too scared, too angry to let himself think in that way. He beat on the man, holding his shirt in one hand to lift his face into the punches. “I. Will. Fucking. Kill you!” Victor shouted. He dropped to his knees, straddling the man’s body. Again, Victor pulled him close, but this blow wasn’t from a fist, but an angry headbutt. The Boss was out, dead or unconscious Victor didn’t care. Melissa was what mattered.
“Mel…” He croaked, rising unsteadily. Victor limped back into her view, a shaking hand coming to touch her cheek. “I told you I’d be back…”
“V-Victor?” Melissa croaked, blinking in disbelief and crawling across the van floor to the door where he stood. “I- I thought you were dead… they… they said they killed all the security…”
She could hardly believe her eyes. The love of her life, the father of her child, standing right there covered in blood and surrounded by bodies. He took her hand and waist, helping her slowly out of the van. She was trembling.
“Wha— how are you here?” Words nearly failed her. But she threw her arms around him, clinging on to his clothing and breathing in his cologne, as if touching him would make this all real.
“What matters is I’m here sweetheart, and you’re ok.” Victor couldn’t bring himself to break the hug, even to check on her condition. “How is she?” Concern bleeding into the question. “Did they hurt either of you?” His hand moved down, rubbing her belly. The touch was from love and concern rather than the malicious intent that Boss had used. This was a man who wanted to protect. He felt that perpetual tightness, but his thoughts were too laser focused on injuries to realize that this wasn’t normal. “I’m so sorry, I’ll never leave your side again.”
She pulled back slightly looking up into his sparkling blue eyes, allowing his hand to cradle the swell of her belly that was wedged between them. “No….” She said quietly, shaking her head. “T-they didn’t hurt me or the baby… but… Vi—”
“Come on, let’s get you out of here.” Victor kissed her sweat-dampened forehead, moving his hand around her waist to support her weight and guiding Melissa away from the blood and bodies littered around the van.
The adrenaline still pumping through her body was the only thing keeping her legs from buckling as they moved slowly down the gravelled path back towards the main road. The smell of burning rubber ghosted her nostrils, a car abandoned nearby still smoking from the bonnet. She didn’t recognise the car but the blood smears on the open door aligned with the stains on Victor's suit.
“Are you hurt?” Melissa asked concerned, stopping to look him over, checking for signs of serious injuries. She knew he could survive anything, her strong protector, but the sight of what she was now discovering to be his own blood was turning her stomach.
“Nah.” He said, his lie obvious to anyone who heard it. “Just a little scratch, I’ve got band aids in the ho-.” In the blink of an eye, Victors gaze left hers, and stared off towards the van. His eyes widened, and grip tightening on her arm he spun his body to place himself between her, and the awakening Boss. A single shot rang, and Victor cried out in pain, and fell to a knee.
When Melissa turned, she saw the blood coming from Victors abdomen, and the Boss grinning.
“I told you I’d step up girlie.” He sneered. “That boy isn’t worth shit, have a real man.”
“Run…” Victor gasped. “Run!” A hand pressed to the hole in his stomach, Victor managed to get himself and Melissa moving before a second shot rang. There was no third, only a click followed by cursing. The bastard was out of ammo, but that didn’t mean he was harmless. The others had guns, a rifle and two shotguns.
“You can run girlie! But I ain’t no absentee dad!” A deranged cackle followed them into the woods.
“J-Just keep moving Mel.” Victor's voice was low, the blood loss already affecting him. “I’ll get you out…”
He swayed, unsteady, and Melissa found herself having to support him slightly as they ran into the thick dense forest. Her stomach turned as she looked down to his hand, clutched firm against his middle. There was so much blood. Dripping between his fingers and seeping into his already stained shirt.
“Victor… you're—you’ve been— oh my god….” The words barely audible through her heavy breathing as she pushed to move as fast as she could. With one hand supporting injured Victor the other cradled her full and heavy belly, each step was agony throughout her pelvis and spine.
With slow movements they somehow managed to make it deeper into the woods beyond the direct line of sight from the road. That man, that ‘Boss’… he wasn’t dead, he was still alive! The whites around his eyes as he had called after her were enough to prove his insanity and anger. Victor’s breath hitched beside her, clearly struggling as much as she to move at any sort of speed away from the vengeful kidnapper.
But then she stopped abruptly. Looking down with betrayal at her own belly as a sharp and twisting contraction came crashing over the horizon and swept her away with the pain. “Oooohhh…. No… not again—not now…”
Reaching forward her hands braced against a nearby tree as the full strength of active labour tore through her body and an instinctual moan slipped past gritted teeth. The weight of the baby felt so low it forced her legs apart, an urgent pressure growing between her hips. Victor was clutching his own stomach, stumbling back to where she’d stopped, looking pale and horrified.
Melissa opened her mouth to speak, to explain, Victor didn’t know she was in labour! But the contraction peaked, skyrocketing to higher levels than any of the others she’d felt. Instead of words a low rumbling sound came from deep in her throat, nearly grunting as her knees dipped and hips jutted back, feeling a distinct shift—
Something gave way. Something changed. The pressure went away in an instant. But it was followed by a warmth dribbling down her inner thighs and her eyes flashed wide in sheer panic.
At first, Victor had thought it was simply a break. He was ready to tell her that there was no time. But then she doubled over, not too dissimilar to all those times she’d tried to go jogging while pregnant and wound out gasping for breath. He almost laughed, delirium telling him that this was a moment to make light. The grunts were odd, his mind worked to put the pieces together. The logical answer was impossible. After all, she wasn’t due till next week.
“Melissa?” He questioned, only to see her dress soiled, and a small puddle below her. “Oh…” Victor's confusion was evident, then his eyes went wide as hers! “Oh! Shit, shit.” He hissed. “You’re in labor?!” He was panicking. Immediately, a hand went to her stomach, and another to her cheek. “How close?” He whispered.
“I…I don’t know…. too close…” she said breathlessly, still recovering from the intense contraction. Her bottom lip quivered as she looked at her partner, the faint smell of copper in the air as his bloodied hand cupped her cheek.
“I think I might have been in labour all day…” Every word was an effort, her body trying to draw all its focus inward onto the primal efforts of its task. But she couldn’t give birth out here… couldn’t have this baby now. The Boss was still alive, Victor had been shot, and they were stuck with no transport in the middle of nowhere.
“W-what are we going to do?” She panted, her fingers lacing with his on her full and low hanging belly.
It was dark in the woods, the only source of light coming from the full moon in the clear sky. But even in the low light she could see the paleness of Victor’s skin, the blood loss draining the colour from his cheeks. A stark comparison to her own flushed expression as each breath that filled her lungs was heavy and measured even between contractions. Melissa had no idea how far along she was in her labour, no clue how close their baby was to being born. But her waters breaking and the steady unyielding weight in her pelvis was not a good sign.
“What?! Like now? Is, is she…” Victor looked down at her, an image popping into his head of a baby dangling between Melissa’s legs. “Is she out? She coming now!? What do we do?” Victor asked. He thought there was going to be time, he thought he’d have a whole week to read the baby books? How long was labor supposed to even last? An hour? Two? The movies always implied it was fast and loud, a sure way of them both getting killed belt the kidnapper. Melissa’s body was ejecting their baby, and there wasn’t a way to stop it.
“Ok, ok.” He breathed, quickly looking back in the direction they’d come from. “C-can you just like… not have her yet? We can’t stop here.” Another glance down, panic evident. “Just hold her in like there’s a line in the bathroom, right?”
Nearby the cracking of branches announced the Boss stalking closer. He was still ranting.
“I ain’t got money for child support!” He was calling. “But I won’t raise no coward like that body man of yours!”
“H-hold her in—? Fucks sake Victor…. It doesn’t work like that….ooohhh….” Melissa snapped before humming behind closed lips. There wasn’t a contraction happening but that weight…. deep in her pelvis it felt like there was a bowling ball between her hips.
“She’s not coming out right now but… oh I don’t know, she feels so low. And the contractions are so strong already…. I don’t know how long we have…” she admitted, rubbing the underside of her belly as Victor looked nervously in the direction they had travelled. The thumping of her heart in her ears was so loud, she didn’t hear the rustling of the trees or snapping of the branches. But her blood went cold at the sound of her kidnappers' voice. Getting closer.
“Can you move?” Victor asked her, his eyes showing concern only for her even with a gunshot wound to the stomach.
Melissa nodded, still cradling her belly. With Herculean effort she moved away from the tree and they staggered deeper into the forest.
He wanted to carry her, anything to help her, but even moving was an effort on Victors part. The hole in his stomach was going to make this all much more stressful no doubt. They moved, the pace slow and sloppy. Even in the darkness, it was like following a bull in a china shop. Branches broke, bushes rustled, and Victor was silently cursing. At one point, Melissa had to stop, and he was forced to make her move even as a contraction wracked her body. With regret he took hold of her arms, and guided her.
“You can’t hide girlie!” The voice was further away. Had he actually lost them? Or was this simply a game to him? With the deranged sadistic mind chasing them, the latter was more likely.
“Keep moving.” Victor mumbled, his voice was getting quieter, and Melissa could tell it wasn’t because he was forcing it to. Victor was well and truly lost in the woods, his sense of direction evaporating. He had to protect her, that’s all he knew.
“Hooo…hoooo… ohhh Victor…” Melissa whimpered, her knees trembling and her gait wide as they staggered through the dark wood. “Mmmmhhh…. Oh god I can feel her… she’s so low—ughh-!”
She nearly doubled over as she clasped her rounded belly and pulled upwards, trying to relieve the building pressure. Another contraction had her curled into Victor's arms and gritting her teeth, trying desperately not to moan as her muscles contracted and her belly turned to stone against him.
“I— ohhhh— I need you to check me— she feels like she’s right there—” she gasped into his bloodied shoulder, nearly biting down as the pressure spiked. Barely able to speak Melissa prayed the baby wasn’t as close as it felt… she almost felt like she needed to—
The contraction finished and she gasped for air, pushing her intrusive thoughts away. They would make it to safety. They simply had to.
“Check?” Victor looked at her like she was insane. “H-how?”
The look Melissa gave him was a mix of exasperation and exhaustion.
“Right, right…” He had to do it fast, the kidnapper was on their trail. Victor helped her to the tree, seeing how her belly sat impossibly low. Cursing her overly tight dress, he managed to lift it just enough, and knelt. Well, there was no head between her legs, and for that he was thankful. “She’s not there.”
Melissa groaned. “Fingers. In.” Her voice came between breaths.
“Fingers… Melissa that…”
He couldn’t tell if the sound that came was a growl from her or simply more pain management from the baby coming, so he obliged.
Her hose were ruined, and panties soiled, but there was nothing to be done about that. Grabbing the hem, he tugged and moved till he had access to her. As gently as he could, he inserted two fingers. How deep was he even supposed to go? He didn’t feel a head or anything, was he supposed to? Maybe they had time after all.
“You’re good Mel.” He said, putting her clothes back rather than pulling them off. They had time for that later, he was sure. “Her head is nowhere I can reach.”
She nodded, swallowing a deep breath. “Okay…. Okay that’s a good thing. Unnngh… it certainly doesn’t feel like it but if you can’t feel anything…”
As Victor stood up from his knees, wincing and holding his stomach, she managed a smile. This man would move heaven and earth for her. “Thank you.” She kissed his lips lightly, holding on to his shoulders as her head tilted up to meet him.
“Are you alright Victor?” She asked, feeling his clammy skin against her cheek. The baby kicked, harsh and disgruntled. “We need to get moving again, I don’t think she’s going to wait for much longer. That last one was strong, I almost felt like I needed to…”
Her sentence trailed off, not wanting to say the word aloud. But her body knew, like an instinct somewhere in the recess of her mind. They were running out of time. There was something pressing down so deep inside, urgent and heavy, and somehow she knew the head of their daughter was right up against her cervix. Every move they made brought them closer to meeting their baby, but they couldn’t stop.
A cackling laugh suddenly echoed through the woods followed by a very loud gunshot.
The trunk not far from them exploded in a shower of bark. Pellets from a pump action shotgun did very little from a distance, but that didn’t stop a lucky shot from killing you. Victor was growling with effort, trying to get them both moving. The further and longer they ran, the slower they became. Melissa, to her credit, did keep a consistent pace. However each step appeared to force her stance wider and wider, like a saddle sore horseman. The perpetual leaning forward of her posture caused growing concern. Visually her belly looked the same as earlier, so that meant the baby was still up there right? When she got small then he would need to worry.
Another gunshot, another tree peppered with led pellets. The kidnapper was far from being in effective range, but he was catching up.
Another sound became prominent the further they moved. A roar, for lack of a better word. It took far too long for Victor to realize exactly what that sound was. Water, rushing water. Pulling Melissa behind a tree, he caught his own breath while letting her catch hers.
“Hear that?” He asked hoarsely. “That’s a river. That’s our ticket. We will never outrun him.” Victor removed his shirt, leaving only the blood stained undershirt as he tied a makeshift bandage around his stomach. A wince escaped his lips as he tightened it. “Nngh, jump in, let the rush carry you…” He said. Victors adrenaline was waning, and to Melissa’s eyes he’d appear on the cusp of passing out.
“My little baby here yet!” That cackling voice called. “I got so many lessons to teach! Including how to properly discipline a mother who don’t FUCKIN LISTEN!”
Victor took Melissa’s shaking hands. “I love you. I promise you will get out of here.”
“Me…? W-what about you?” Her eyes were wide, searching his, trying to understand what he was suggesting. As realisation dawned her mouth hung open. “You can’t leave me!…. I can’t do this without you….”
Victor seemed determined, military training having taken over with logical thinking. But he could barely walk as well, practically all the colour was gone from his face and his clothes were drenched with blood from the wound on his stomach.
“What are you gonna do Vic? You haven’t got any weapons. Hell, you can barely stand. You can’t fight him, he’ll kill you—ooooohhhh—”
Another contraction had Melissa grunting as her knees began to buckle. “Nnnnghh…. I can’t do this… ohhh… the baby is coming soon… don’t make me do this alone….”
Melissa whimpered, knees shaking as she gripped onto Victor for dear life, trying to get through the agonising wave forcing more and more pressure deep into her pelvis.
Victor sighed, he had to do this, he had to protect Melissa and their daughter.
“Mel…” He said, trying to find the strength to argue, he had none. The dress was so strained, her hair plastered to her face. The makeup long since wiped away from the combination of tears and sweat. Victor could only imagine how he looked to her. He pulled her close, arms wrapping around her body. Up close hugs had become a thing of the past after their daughter joined, her growth causing her parents to be unable to embrace like they once had. Victor knew there was no time, but he waited, waited for her grip to loosen, his only outward sign that the contraction was over.
“I’ll come. But, baby, I need you to promise me.” He forced her eyes to meet his, thumb and index fingers on her chin. She was so beautiful, so strong, fierce, loyal, independent. She was going to be one hell of a mother. “If you have the opportunity, to escape…” His breathing was uneven, something had to be wrong inside that he wasn’t letting on about. “You run. And you don’t stop till you find the cops.”
Far away, the eerie sound of a deranged man singing a lullaby reached through the woods.
“Promise Melissa. Protect her, before you worry about me.”
The couple remained silent, no exchange or words could soften the awful request he was making. Victor would remain as long as he could, but his time was limited, and he knew it.
They left the spot, moving at a glacial pace thanks to the constant contractions their daughter was causing. Each stop he saw the woman he loved descend further into pain, panic, and worry. The dress was torn in spots now, and her feet, he wanted to give her his shoes but had no time to stop, and they wouldn’t fit her anyways. He kept them both moving, following the growing sound of the river. It was their only hope.
They reached the riverbank, both out of breath as they looked across the ravine. The moonlight reflected off its surface, twinkling like stars on the dark depths of the water rushing down stream. Melissa was clutching her belly, panting even between contractions, trying to hold the baby inside of her anyway she could.
“I— I don’t know if I can get down there—” she said under her breath, looking hesitantly at their only option. The river was just so wide, so deep, a black abyss of uncertainty. Her legs were like jelly, wide and unsteady. The baby was so low it felt like she was seconds from dropping into a squat just to relieve the nauseating pressure.
The next contraction came before they could formulate a plan, and her body did exactly what she feared. Grabbing Victor's arm as her knees buckled, Melissa dropped into a squat and a low mooing sound came from the depths of her chest.
“Oh fuck— uhhhh— pressure—” her knuckles were white pulling Victor down as she sank further into the squat. “—nnngh— I think— I think I wanna push—?”
“Push? Nonono.” Victor practically fell beside her. “Melissa, don’t push.” He tried to touch her bump, finding it a malformed mass rather than its previously rounded state. “Breathe, j-just breathe. All we have to do is, ah!” He winced as she pulled him closer. For fear of her making too much noise, he pulled her into a hug, his free hand pressing her face into the crook of his shoulder. “Do whatever you have to do, but you can’t push Mel.” His eyes darted the treeline praying that their pursuer wouldn’t hear whatever noises she had to make to prevent pushing.
Melissa clung awkwardly to his body, her knees had spread wide in her squat but her face was somehow buried against his neck. Groaning deeply she worked through the intensity of the contraction, feeling every millimetre of progress her body had made now in this position. Her hips felt like they were being wedged apart, her lungs ached from each ragged breath. She resorted to panting, heavily and desperate as the pressure built quickly to its peak. Mercifully the contraction let her go and the sudden panicked urgency of birth faded away.
“Oh my god…. That was…. Oooohh….” Forming any sort of sentence was an effort but she slumped against him breathing slower and she hoped it would be taken as a sign the moment had passed.
Slowly she lifted her head, worrying filling her eyes as she looked desperately to Victor whose arms were still supporting her squatted position. “I think we’re running out of time…”
“You got that right darlin’…” A cold voice came from behind the trees.
Victor moved in the blink of an eye, yanking her up to her feet at the sound of a gun being loaded. “Jump!” He yelled, squeezing her hand tight. Obeying without question, survival instincts giving her the required strength, together they leapt off the riverbank.
The shock of ice cold water hitting them was akin to a freight train running down a car. For Victor, it spiked his adrenaline to the point that he forgot he’d even been shot. Heart pounding, he fought the current to reach the surface with speed. Was he still holding Melissa’s hand? Victor squeezed, finding that she was in fact still there. For Melissa, it only made things worse. Ice cold water forced all her muscles to contract involuntarily. In the dark depthless river, Victors hand was the only comfort.
He found her with his other hand, and kicked down hard, bringing them both back up to the air. Only seconds were spent submerged, yet it felt like an eternity since the pair had breathed air. Silence fell as the roaring returned. In the short time, the couple was already nearly a hundred yards downstream. Their pursuer was nowhere in sight, had he jumped too? Or simply given up? The latter was too good to be true. A rock hitting his leg pulled Victor from his thoughts, and he tightened his grip on Melissa, doing all he could to keep her above water.
“Hold on!” He shouted, and she could feel him not only holding her, but also wrapping around an arm to protect their baby in her womb.
The need for air triumphed over the pain and the ice cold water. She tried to move her legs, to swim so Victor didn’t have to keep all three of them afloat, but her lower half had stopped listening to her mind… legs spreading under water around the head constantly pressing against her cervix.
Water spluttered from her lips as she groaned, her body contracting, the baby moving down. The water was strong, plunging down stream with a frightening ferocity. Their heads kept getting pulled under, but Victor’s arm around her body kept bringing them to the surface.
Goosebumps covered her body, she had been so hot and sweaty trying to escape the wood in active labour but now every pore had clamped up against the frozen temperature and was screaming in protest. Her ripped dress was thankfully short enough to have ridden up her thighs but its fabric was tight across her skin, making her feel trapped in both the water and her own clothing.
They weren’t going to make it. This would be how it ends… drowning in the dark. Never meeting her daughter. Never marrying Victor. Never having that happy life she had pictured.
But then the water calmed, no longer pulling them under and almost lazily carrying them down stream.
“V-Victor— are you okay?” She gasped, still secure in his arms as he worked tirelessly to save them.
“I’ve. Been. Better.” He said between gulping breaths. He kept her tightly held to him, a hand against her contracting womb. Even submerged, he could feel how different her belly was. “Let’s not, do that again.” He forced a smile, it was weak, and the hair plastered to his face thanks to the water made it seem like a delusional joke.
For a few minutes, they just floated, the pair catching their collective breaths till Victor asked the question he’d been afraid to ask.
“How close?” No context was needed, for only one thing could make Victor, a man of action, bravery, and integrity soften his voice and fill it with such concern. His chest was to her back, an arm around her chest just beneath her breasts and above her belly, while the other remained on her stomach. Could that jump have hurt their girl? Could it all have caused her to be born in the water?
Melissa’s legs floated uselessly in the water, naturally wide apart, her dress gathered just under her hips. At Victor’s question she lowered a shivering hand around her belly and felt between her thighs. She winced at the touch of her own hand, sore and swollen behind the thin fabric of her black underwear.
“She’s not… coming out yet… but she’s definitely right there.” Melissa said with a cracked, rough voice. All the water and spluttering having scratched her throat raw.
“I— I can’t close my legs anymore, the head is that low…” Delirious from their near-drowning, a quiet laugh escaped Melissa’s lips. “But I think the jumping and ice cold swimming might have scared her from her arrival…”
As the sounds of the flowing water slowed, Melissa realised they had entered shallower waters and Victor was pulling them towards the bank. The edge was rocky, large boulders creating a bottleneck where the river quietened to a gentle stream. It was still deep and the water almost black in the dark midnight. Her bare feet found the bottom of the riverbed, her shoes for the evening's party long gone, and she tentatively stood upright in the water bracing against a boulder. Victor slumped exhausted against it beside her.
The movement of her legs and body prompted the sudden arrival of the next contraction. Her hands flew out against the rock as everything squeezed aggressively. “Unnnnghhh— fuck— Victor!”
Words failed her as the baby shifted, pressing urgently downwards and drawing a grunting sound from her throat. The instinct to squat… to open… returned with a vengeance and her knees trembled slowly bending. Dipping down into the icy water all she could manage to say was “—pressure—!”
“Mel, Mel we’re so close.” He said, lifting himself to try and discourage her from pushing. “Just keep her in a little bit longer, please.” He could only see her upper body, the woman whom he’d fallen in love with nearly a year ago. It felt odd, having a reflective moment here and now. This independent free spirit that had struck him as a nuisance on their first meeting, now actively laboring with their child. And here he was telling her not to.
With the stream being more of a gentle rush rather than its frantic roar, everything could be heard better, and much to his dismay, the groaning Melissa had been trying to suppress for so long echoed throughout the small gorge, flying in all directions to give them away. Hand on his stomach, he looked for something, anything that could help them. Reflected by the moon on the slow moving water, he spotted it. Decades of erosion ate away at the banks of the river, leaving spots sporadically where one might be able to hide outside of the forest's view.
“Ok j-just breathe.” Victor got behind her, pressing the heel of his hand into her lower back and massaging. It’d relieved some discomfort in the late months of her pregnancy, perhaps it could do some good here as well.
Automatically her hips jutted backwards against his firm hand, an instinctual shift to get counter pressure. With a shaky inhale Melissa focused on his words and his hands, releasing her breath as slow as she could manage.
“Hooooo— ohhhh I really want to push V-Vic—” her words a quiet whimper amongst her moaned breathing. It felt like the baby’s head was rammed against her bones, urgent and insistent. With wet palms slapping against the rock she growled through the peak and very nearly gave into her body’s instincts.
His hands stayed strong on her hips, squeezing and moving in tandem, as she shifted her weight side to side in the water. “I… don’t know if I can…hold back the urges much…longer…” Melissa admitted quietly. Not daring to let go from where she was braced against the rock.
“Ok.” He soothed. She was in pain, his only love was suffering. Victor took a look around again. There was no sign of the man, maybe they could rest, if only for a minute of two. “Melissa this is what I want you to do. Little pushes, j-just enough to ease the pressure.” Victor had no idea if that was how it worked or not, but he had to try. “I’ll help you walk, over there.” He nodded to the alcove.
They waited, five seconds, ten, thirty, when Melissa finally took a step it was unsteady, and Victor, despite his own pain, had to support her. Downstream the river was running crimson, his makeshift bandage had dislodged when they rushed down river. Victor didn’t care, his eyes were on Melissa. Her legs couldn’t get closer than shoulder width anymore. Was that the pain? Or was their daughter lodged so deep in her hips that it made it impossible? They stopped again, a little over halfway there.
“Do you need me to check again?” He asked, pressing a little harder into her lower back.
Melissa hummed her answer, nodding vehemently. Wading down the rivers edge would be difficult enough in this darkness even without a baby lodged between her hips. Every step felt like it could shift the baby that final inch right into position that would have her uncontrollably bearing down.
She grit her teeth, bending over slightly to brace her own thighs and would have bobbed under the surface if it weren’t for Victor’s arm around her waist keeping her upright. All logical thinking went out the window as the pressure thumped steadily downwards, contraction or not, it was always there reminding her of what needed to happen. Melissa barely registered the blood seeping more and more from Victor’s wounds, couldn’t think of anything bar the primal urges screaming through body.
“P-p-please check me— oh god— I really wanna push— I need to p—” Her legs twitched beneath the water, a growl of failed restraint echoing from her lungs, finally bearing down with the urge.
Victor acted fast, his arms going under hers to prevent Melissa from sinking deeper into a squat as her body finally got a little of what it wanted. Far too exposed in their current position, Victor practically forced Melissa’s legs to follow along with her body as he worked to guide her on. The fabric clinging to her belly shifted with each movement, and if it weren’t for the elements around them, he felt it would probably be a relief if he’d just tear all the restricting clothes off of her. However, that restriction was partially what was helping them delay their daughter's imminent arrival.
After her contraction ended, Melissa was paler than before. Resistance to her natural needs was taxing her to the point of what Victor thought was dangerous. Finally in the little nook, he leaned her against the vertical bank. Just as before, he knelt, wincing audibly as he tried to resist his own pain while simultaneously fighting her dress for access. The river water was murky and laced with grime, much of which was now caking the couple. Her thighs were dirty and scratched, and Victor found himself regretting making her jump.
“You’re doing so good.” He said, and Melissa had to take a moment to see that he was talking to both of them, mother, and daughter. With speed only mustered from panic and will, he pulled down her panty hose again as pushed her black panties off to the side. Just two fingers, he slid in. Barely past his second knuckle, he felt it. A tiny, solid mass, rounded with what he could only assume was a full head of hair.
“Shit…” He muttered. “Shit shit shit.” That was what? Three inches? Maybe four? The baby was so close to coming that renewed panic filled his mind. “She’s right there.” Victor said, rubbing Melissa’s thigh. “Only a few inches. Can, can you just, push her out real quick?” His cluelessness as to how birth worked remained his greatest shortfall. Not knowing that Melissa would have to fight with her body for every centimeter.
The laughter that came from her mouth was predominantly delirium. “I thought… we were trying to keep her in…?” Melissa said, leaning back against the riverbank and feeling the mud and roots on her spine.
The water levels had lessened significantly at this point in the river, but that meant gravity was pulling harder on all her muscles. Including the weight of the baby wedged in her pelvis and forcing her legs apart. “As— much as I want— to give birth— oooooh— I don’t think a crying baby is going to keep us hidden from that mad bastard.”
The reality of what Victor had said took a few moments to catch up with her brain. “What did you… did you say you could feel her? Our daughter?” The crack of emotion was clear in her voice just as much as it was mirrored in Victor’s eyes. Their daughter… she was almost here. “What are we gonna do?… I don’t think I can hold back from pushing anymore… I definitely pushed a little just now.”
The urgency of the situation got stronger with every contraction. The weight she carried, lower and lower in her hips was only going to end one way. Her hands were wet and muddied as she rubbed the swell of her belly, silently wishing her daughter to slow down. Melissa grimaced and shifted in the water, her tights pulling harsh around her thighs from where Victor had pulled them down.
“Ugh…. Just rip them off… they keep catching on everything and it feels like they are cutting me in half…” she asked with a frustrated huff, gesturing to the pantyhose littered with holes.
It was an easy enough request. Getting a good grip on one of the tears closest to her belly, he pulled apart. Fabric separated with the ease of paper. Within seconds, Melissa was left with her legs fully exposed to the elements, not that the tights had done much to deter them in the first place. Anger and anguish in equal measure bubbled as her bare legs and thighs were finally revealed. She was covered in bruises and little cuts. What he’d thought was mostly mud was in fact the woman he loved getting all sorts of scars.
“That better?” He asked, tossing the ruined tights into the river. Victor rose to his feet, one hand resting on the bank for support, the other pressing firmly into his side. “We can’t stay here long Mel.” He hissed. Victors eyes expressed the pain he was feeling yet refused to voice. “I need to get you somewhere that you can deliver, a road, a cave, fuck I’d take some hollowed out tree. So long as it’s warm and dry.” Both were pipe dreams, Victor was kidding himself about all of this. Every second out here, exposed and in the open, was a greater risk he’d lose the only two lives that he cared about. “But, you’re right. She can’t come yet, it’ll give us away and risk her even more. So, try to not push. Maybe one little one here and there, but we have to protect her. She’s safest inside you…” Forcing a smile, he got his weight under himself, taking away the supporting hand to put it in her bump.
Her heart melted as he touched her rounded belly so affectionately. So often Victor was forced to show little to no emotion or affection towards Melissa and their baby, in order to keep up pretences and keep their relationship a secret. Each time they were granted that intimacy and excitement of impending parenthood it took her breath away.
“To keep her safe.” She repeated, nodding gently. Her fingers laced with his, both pairs cut and scratched and dirty. Together the parents-to-be were determined to survive. For their daughter.
They continued down stream, following the bank until the ledge was low enough for the pair of them to get out. Victor continued to wince and hiss as he moved but never said a word. Too focused on protecting Melissa. Usually she would say something, force him to take care of himself, but the contractions were so close together now she barely had any energy to speak let alone worry about Victor. She needed him, had to trust him to get them all through this.
Before climbing out of the river, Victor checked the area as far as the moonlight allowed, fearing their kidnapper had somehow reached this far through the forest. Melissa rode out another contraction at the edge of the water, practically bent over a boulder and grunting tiny pushes. The pressure was too great to ignore the call of her body and pushing provided blissful seconds of relief. As if her instincts were celebrating she was doing what was needed. But she tried to keep them small, tried to clench her thighs as much as she could, not wanting her daughter to be born until it was safe.
In the short break between contractions Melissa somehow managed to crawl up the riverbank onto land, Victor helping her despite his injuries. She collapsed onto all fours on the grass, groaning with another contraction that happened less than a minute after the last.
“Mel? Mel!?” Victor was beside her in an instant. “Breathe, breathe. Little pushes.” Inwardly he was cursing. These damned contractions were too close, how in the Hell would they make any progress if she was forced to the ground every other minute? He thought about carrying her, it wouldn’t be much faster, but perhaps…
As if his own body was telling him that this was in fact not possible, he coughed, once, twice, a fit overtaking him. Hacking into the crook of his arm, the fit subsided and he managed a wheezing breath. This wasn’t good. Pulling away, he saw specks of crimson where he’d been coughing. Pushing aside his own welfare, he racked his brain for ideas. Carrying wasn’t going to happen. All they had was hope, hope that the bastard would give up, or never find them.
“I’m sorry.” He whispered into her hair, hugging her close. “I’m going to get you on your feet, then we need to get going.” Not too far ahead, the forest grew thick with undergrowth. Maybe a rest, somewhere hidden. He was so tired himself, and everything in him told him to lie down.
On all fours and panting heavily, Melissa nodded in understanding. The tight black dress she had chosen for the party was now soaked, ripped, and had ridden up to her hips. Her knees were cut and scratched, blood and mud smeared across her body. She shivered as the contraction ended, her damp skin prickling in the night air.
“She— feels closer—” Melissa said to the ground as she tried to catch her breath. “I— can’t stop— the pushing— I’m trying- to only do little ones but— oh Victor….”
The pressure between her thighs had mounted, the position of all fours opening up her pelvis fully, feeling like something had definitely shifted. Her hands clawed at the grass as she panted through the new sensation, soil gathering beneath her fingernails.
He removed his grip for a moment. Melissa’s belly was mere inches from the grass, and each contraction shrank it. The frame of reference let Victor see just how much her body was fighting her. Their daughter wanted out, and her body agreed. Impending danger to them all was the one and only reason he wasn’t stripping her clothing off to help deliver their little future. Victor watched in awe as Melissa shifted her weight back, the fabric of her dress coming up to reveal her panties waistline.
That, was when his heart dropped.
Between her thighs, under the black lace panties that only hours ago he’d helped her pick with the intention of taking them off later for both of their enjoyments, had a noticeable bulge. Her crotch pressed out, rounded, yet still her lips remained together. She was there, she was right there. How could he ask Melissa to move when their daughter was so close? Victor centered himself, taking in a painful breath before he spoke to her.
“Baby, we still have a little time.” It wasn’t a lie, but it was far from the truth. Victor had no clue how long it’d take for her to go from this to holding her baby. “She’s close, b-but she’s not showing yet.” He glanced again, seeing that she wasn’t receding, but more importantly she wasn’t actively progressing.
Melissa moaned with gratitude, hearing that the baby wasn’t showing yet. Every cell in her body, specifically between her legs, was telling her their baby was coming out. But Victor said they had time. They needed time.
“Okay— ooohh—okay that’s a g-good thing— we should— move before the next contraction hits…” she said heavily, sinking backwards to rest on the backs of her heels, rubbing her belly unconsciously.
It took more effort than expected - for both Melissa and Victor - to get back to their feet. Victor was ghostly pale and unsteady on his feet, struggling to aid Melissa to stand who couldn’t straighten fully and stayed hunched over and bow-legged. Gravity made everything feel so heavy, the impending weight pressing right against her labia inside her panties. Melissa’s hand shot between her legs, feeling like the baby was about to fall out of her body.
“Ohhhh… she’s right here, she’s really right there….” She gasped, feeling the change in her own anatomy from the impending baby. Panting heavily Melissa pushed upwards automatically, pressing against herself to give counter pressure against the urgency of childbirth. She kept her hand firmly on her crotch as they made the uncertain journey into the woods, hoping to find anywhere safe… anywhere they could rest while hiding from the armed grievous kidnapper.
Victor quickly became accustomed to the different sounds Melissa made. Winces and grunts, little cries of pain all from the different issues she was subjected to. The quick, abrupt hisses most often came when her bare feet found a sharp twig or jagged rock. The lower, almost guttural moans and grunts most assuredly were the result of their impatient daughter. Every minute, almost to the point he could perfectly time it, he watched Melissa tense her arm and press firmly into her crotch.
Trying to gain his bearings was hopeless at this point. Victors blood loss was so severe that he appeared as a specter in the woods rather than a man. Steps became dragging attempts of progression, and soon the effort to even hold his own side was too much. Vision blurring, he felt Melissa brush against him, whether in an attempt of comfort or simply because she was too distracted by her own pain, he didn’t know. He blinked, slow, lazily. Each time his eyelids grew heavier.
“Mel—“ He rasped, and suddenly he felt cold on his knees. Victor looked down, he was kneeling, he hadn’t done that on… Victor collapsed fully, eyes staring up into the moonlit sky.
“Oh my god—!” Melissa watched in horror as he hit the ground looking ghostly white, his eyes swirling unfocused. She dropped to her knees in an instant, both her hands flying to his chest. “No no no…. Victor…. Stay with me…”
Seeing the man she loved - her bodyguard, her protector, her soul mate - on the verge of unconsciousness and weak from blood loss made her heart stop. His chiselled perfect face was almost lifeless, blood staining his lips. The injuries he’d sustained must have been so much worse than he was letting on. She scrambled across his torso trying to locate the wound in a desperate attempt to try and stop the bleeding.
“P-please— please Victor— you have to get up— we have to keep g-going—” Melissa’s words were breathy and panicked, her palms pressing into the hole in his stomach against the tacky congealed blood on his shirt.
Victor looked right past her, his eyes unable to find exactly where the woman he loved was. He could hear her though, that sweet, gentle loving voice. For the first time in what felt like hours, he was numb, all the pain in his belly was gone, he felt oddly at peace. But, there was Melissa, and their baby girl. Weakly, Victor raised a hand to cup her cheek, using a thumb to wipe away the tears. Was this how it ended? Was Victor going to die unable to save her? Their daughter?
“Just, resting…” He said, the blood pumping in his ears preventing the bodyguard hearing what she said. “R-resting…” Another painfully slow blink, he tried to find their daughter, how old was she now? Three? No, four. He blinked again, finding that it wasn’t just Melissa kneeling beside him. A little redheaded girl, with brighter blue eyes and a smile to melt the world. “Hey kiddo…” He said, reaching out towards their girl.
In the realm of reality, Melissa had to watch as Victor reached for someone who wasn’t there, for, for their daughter? The daughter who, now that her mother was too distracted with her fathers condition, was taking her chance to escape.
Pushing! Without awareness or conscious thought, Melissa’s knees had spread across the muddy grass and suddenly she was pushing.
Her hands were still pressed into Victor’s abdomen while her womb squeezed and she grunted involuntarily. But Victor was dying. Pale and weak, hallucinating and barely conscious, the father of her child was prone on the forest floor.
The child surged downwards, desperate to be born. “Nnnnnghh—no no no—!!” The head was right against her lips, bulging obscenely behind her skin, and she growled at the overwhelming all consuming pressure. They weren’t going to make it… there was no way out of this. Victor was dying and this baby was coming. Any hope she had left disappeared faster than the river’s current and finally, she succumbed, giving herself fully to the inevitable.
Her bloodied hands slipped from his torso and grabbed his arm, a vice-like grip with nails clawing, and Melissa gave an almighty intentional push. Bearing down she felt every single millimetre as the head slowly began to part her folds, the sounds of her roaring effort echoing loudly through the forest.
Victor's hallucination changed. Their daughter looked at her mother. He did the same, but instead of seeing the vibrant and happy woman of his dreams, she was dirty, crying, her teeth clenched as she strained. A stinging in his arm forced his tired eyes down, her nails were digging into him, why? The forest, it was dark, their baby gone, and all that remained in its place was Melissa giving in to her body to release the primal cry as agony gripped her womb to expel their baby.
“M-Mel?” He sounded weak, yet coherent. Victor grabbed her arm with his free hand. “Breathe, breathe…” Even on deaths door, even with the reaper at his back looking to take him away, his concern was for her and their baby.
Unbeknownst to them both, only half a mile away, someone else heard Melissa’s cries, and started his trek to claim the woman and her soon to be born baby all for himself.
Victor with resounding pain and effort propped himself on an elbow to pull her close. “It’s ok, it’s ok.”
“Nnnnnghh-!!!! Pushing—Victor— I’m pushing—” Melissa grunted incoherently through her body’s primal action. It felt like there was no stopping it now; the contraction was drawing everything in and down, her belly tight and small while her legs were wide and spread.
The salty tears rolled down her face into her mouth that was baring her teeth with each strain of her body. The baby wanted to be born, starting to open Melissa’s body, eager to meet her parents. As Victor spoke and eventually moved to sit up slightly, her heart leapt with hope but she couldn’t speak while the contraction still held her hostage. Her nails dug crescent moons into his skin, clinging onto him any way she could through the uncontrollable pushes.
Then she slumped forward, panting heavily as the contraction waned and after a few gulps of air she could look up to his ashen face. “Oh Vic…. You’re hurt so badly…. I thought I was going to lose you…” She released her grip on his arm to gently cup the cool skin of his cheek. “We need to get you to a hospital… we both need a hospital.”
Melissa stated the obvious. But looking around they had no clue where they were or how to get to civilisation. “C-can you move-?” She dared to ask, uncertain if she could even move at this point, with the baby peeking between her sensitive folds inside her underwear. “We need to move… we have to go…somewhere….anywhere…safer than out in the open like this…”
Victor looked around, he felt so weak, and even the thought of movement seemed impossible. He put all his weight on his hands to push up, but all he received for his troubles was a flash of white and excruciating pain. His breathing was steady, wheezing with every inhale. Victor hated that he knew exactly what that noise was, and likely what it had came from . Just his luck, that the jump into the water was probably going to kill him faster that the hole in his stomach.
“Tree…” He said. With Melissa’s help, as much as she could at least, both of them got a few feet towards a tree trunk. Victor rested against it, eyes only focusing when he managed to look into Melissa’s. He smiled, that sad, knowing smile when he knew something she didn’t. “I don’t know if I’m going to get much further, baby.” He said. Slow, painful movements, and he lifted his shirt. The hole from the bullet was there, but up above it, his side was nearly black with bruising.
“I— only have— one working lung, I, think…” Tears fell down his cheeks. “She won’t— wait for her— d-dad to catch his breath.” He pressed his hand into the underside of her belly. “I d-don’t see— how we— all three get..” He coughed, blood and phlegm on his lips. “Out of here.”
On seeing the full extent of her partner’s injuries Melissa felt her stomach roll with nausea. The deathly black tinge to his ribs that faded into the smears of blood across his abdomen. She’d never seen someone so hurt, so battered and broken as Victor looked right now. The tears falling from his eyes was enough of a sign of how much pain he was in.
“Shhh… it’s okay… we’ll make it through this. We all will make it out of here.” Melissa softly whispered, running her fingers over the stubble on his cheeks. “I’m not doing this without you. Our daughter will just have to wait a little l-longer….”
A blind confidence washed over the labouring woman. In the absence of his usual unwavering strength Melissa became determined and tried to take charge for the both of them. “We will rest here for a bit… let you… oooohh.. catch your breath and then we can-uhhh— move again”
She knelt beside him, his chest rising and falling even faster than her own as he tried desperately to breath. But as her belly tensed again with a contraction she leant over his body, pressing a hand into the tree trunk behind him so she could brace against it as her body worked through the intense wave squeezing through her core. The intensity had her panting as she focused on Victor’s face right in front of her, determined not to push… to hold on for the father of this child. As she bit back a groan of resistance, they heard it—
“Come out, come out wherever you are!!” A chilling voice in the distance echoed through the trees and it turned her blood to ice.
That grating voice, and the look on Melissa’s face told him everything he needed to know. There was no way for him to get rest, not here, not now. The struggle was only exasperated for his laboring lover with the added stress of the man who had been hunting them for what felt like hours. An expression, he read it on Melissa before she could even warn him. A spike of adrenaline, born out of fear for her and their daughters lives, he moved.
It was excruciating, but he managed it. Victor flipped Melissa around so her back was on his chest, and her rear on his lap. Just as quickly, he put his hand over her mouth to staunch the oncoming noise he knew she wouldn’t be able to hold. Fearful that she’d give in, and that their frightened screams would also alert the kidnapper, he put his hand between her legs, cupping the baby’s head. Boots crunched close by, and his grip tightened.
“You know…” The man called, his voice only on the other side of the hedges they currently hid behind. “I think I knows what got ya try’n so hard t’ escape!” The couple listened to some fabric scratching. “Foun’ this here in your body boys jacket! Suuuure is a purdy ring! I’ll still let ya wear it, s’long as ya get on out here, AND STOP FUCKING HIDING FROM ME!” He fired the shotgun, and Victor tensed.
“Shhh.” He whispered into her ear.
For a brief second she panicked when Victor’s muddy palm went across her mouth, but she soon realised his intentions and she panted through her nostrils as her body continued its attack. Her legs were twisted awkwardly in the rapid movement onto his lap, partially bent, partially entwined with his. As the pressure of the head against her opening increased Melissa found her hips tilting backwards automatically.
It was urgent and insistent and she simply could not stop Mother Nature. The second Victor cupped her bulging crotch, providing blissful counter pressure, she bared her teeth behind his hand as she pushed uncontrollably. It didn’t matter that the sounds of twigs snapping or muttered ramblings were getting closer and closer, or the gunshot that rang through the empty forest, every cell in her body was focused downwards between her legs. Bearing down hard with the primal demands of nature, her body trembled with automatic effort. Mercifully Victor matched every push, keeping his palm secure over her underwear, preventing their daughter's progress and stopping any more of the head peeking through her sensitive labia.
A low grunting sound rumbled from deep in her chest and Melissa clamped her mouth shut trying to contain any sound from escaping past her mouth or Victor’s hand.
“Come on sweetheart…” the Boss’s smirking voice leered from behind a nearby tree. “You can’t hide from me forever. That bastard in your belly wants out any moment. Show me how close that nipper is to sliding out your—”
A thud followed by cursing told Victor and Melissa their assailant had tripped and stumbled in the low-lit woods.
This was their best chance, an opportunity to flee while he was distracted by his own clumsiness. But, Victor couldn’t get his legs to move, and Melissa was still tense, the contraction lasting an eternity. The baby was fighting both him and her mother, wanting release into the world, thirty-nine weeks of waiting to meet her parents. She definitely had her mothers patience.
“Don’t make a sound.” He breathed, so quiet even he could barely hear it. He released her crotch for but a moment, warmth coating his palm from the expelling amniotic fluid. Victor grabbed a rock, and with what strength he had left, he threw it off to their right. Luck was on their side, because they heard a crack as it landed on a branch, followed by a series of thuds as it rolled through the underbrush. Their pursuer heard it too, perhaps assuming they’d grown desperate enough to try and run.
“Got you now girly.” He growled, Melissa could perfectly visualize the predatory smile he would be wearing. “That lil bastards mine!” He shuffled off.
Even in his state, Victor made an important note in his head. Four shells have been fired, and the pump action he used only carried six. If he had no more ammo, they might have a chance after all. There was something else too, an odd hair in his run. He was limping, perhaps that trip had hurt him. The bodyguard was pulled from his observations by Melissa shaking, she was pushing again, and as much as he hated himself for it, he pressed his palm into her once again to halt process. The little luck they’d found couldn’t be ruined by their daughter's cries.
“It’s ok, it’s ok…”
Still awkwardly sitting on Victor’s lap, she grabbed the backs of her knees in desperation and pulled them up either side of her belly as she pushed hard. The brief moment he had let go to throw the stone had been all her body needed and the baby had slipped further… an oval shape bulging inside of her ruined underwear.
“Nnnnngh— she’s coming—out—” Melissa rasped her warning between the unstoppable rounds of pushing.
But Victor knew, he could feel the progress that had already been made when his hand clamped over her once more. The contraction was never ending… that insane overwhelming need to deliver this child was affecting her mind. The pressure and stretching around the head made her forget about the danger, not caring even. All that mattered was her primal desire to bear down and deliver this baby.
And so with every crest of the contraction Melissa pushed against his hand, over and over, but his palm never wavered, never granted any extra room. When the contraction finally gave up she slumped back against his bloodied and bruised chest, her own rising and falling dramatically as she tried to catch her breath.
“…have…to…give…birth…” she whispered, barely able to turn her face up to see his expression, his hand still firm between her legs while the other rubbed her swollen middle soothingly. “P-please… I have to get her out…”
“Melissa, listen to me.” His voice was calm, almost as if he was in too much pain to panic. “If you give birth here, now, your noise, and her cries, will get him here.” Victor made wide circles on her belly, praying that it could calm their daughter. “He will kill me, and I don’t want to think of what he would do to you and our girl.” Victor felt her womb sieze again, and this time instead of just holding the near crowning head in place, he pushed their daughter back in ever so slightly.
An idea came to mind, a horrible, painful one, but one that would at least buy the couple a little time.
“I still have my belt.” He told her. “Baby, we have to stop her from coming. It’s the only way. I can barely walk, and keeping my hand between your legs isn’t an option.” Logistics ran through his mind, and he debated how best to do what he planned. “It’s long enough to make a figure eight between your legs, and I’ll rest it above your hips.” Without realizing what he was doing, his thumb began to stroke their daughters head as if in apology. “It will only be till you’re safe. But you can’t give birth here or this family won’t exist.”
Melissa began to sob, writhing in his lap against his firm hand that was sending shooting pain up through her pelvis and spine. The logic was clear, but that part of her mind had long been shut off and only instinct prevailed.
“But— it h-hurts— so much—” her voice cracked through the hitch of her crying. “I— can’t stay like this— I have to push—”
Melissa’s silence confirmed that she was once more bearing down, her efforts moving the baby back down and undoing Victor’s attempt to give them more time. He let her push again, understanding she couldn’t stop it but kept his hand firm between her legs as she gave into the urge. When it was over and Melissa was resting between pushes, she heard the clink of metal behind her back and felt Victor moving her down his lap.
Exhaustion was sweeping over the labouring mother between contractions, her eyes barely focusing. She didn’t see him wrap the belt around her legs, barely felt the leather against her scratched and bruised thighs that felt numb in comparison to the burning at her crotch. It was only when Victor removed his hand and the counter pressure was replaced by something else that her eyes flew wide open.
“No… oh no Victor please…” the panic poured with each quiet word as her hands went to the contraption now entwined around her hips. But as she moved, the taut unforgiving belt held everything steady and in place… a perfect amount of pressure against her screaming hips, but most importantly against the sliver of the head now resting in the damp gusset of her panties. The baby would certainly not get out now, which meant they had more precious time.
“Shhh shhh shh… I promise, it’s only till we are safe. We can’t have a screaming baby here Mel. Not yet.” His hand now free, he stroked her hair in the way he had months ago when she’d broken down about the pregnancy. Nothing in his world was more important that the two women next to him, and if he had to cause her a little pain to protect them both, then he was willing to hate himself for it.
They didn’t wait long. During her next contraction and session of pushing, the belt proved to be more than enough to prevent any sort of progress. It’s only major downside in the meantime was forcing her legs closer and restricting that movement. He got up first, nursing his side all the while keeping an eye out for their pursuer. He was nowhere to be seen. Once vertical, Victor leant down, grabbing under Melissa’s arms.
“I’m going to lift. I need your help to get you up Mel.” The tears in her eyes broke his heart, and it hurt even more that he could do nothing for that right now. “We have to be utterly silent, baby.” Again, that spike of adrenaline from her being in danger was falling. He knew well enough that such a boost was impossible to have again, it was a miracle it had happened twice. If they didn’t get out before he crashed, they were all dead.
“One, two, three!” Victor pulled.
Rising to her feet a silent scream had her mouth wide open and eyes screwed shut. Her entire body was trembling and she clung to Victor like a lifeline, fingers hooked over his broad shoulders. The next contraction pulled her weight back towards the floor leaving her almost half-squatting, belly hanging between her parted thighs and her face pressed against his clavicle.
Melissa didn’t dare try and speak for fear of what sound would come out instead. Every muscle was squeezing and bearing down against the belt tight between her legs, her efforts moving the head only a fraction before it met the leather strap blocking the exit. The contractions were near constant and it was an effort to stand let alone move anywhere.
But deep down she knew they must. A lunatic was out there somewhere, armed and focused entirely on Melissa and her baby. That baby was safe while she stayed nestled inside her body. Their daughter couldn’t come out yet. With gritted teeth Melissa managed to get some semblance of control over her body and with shaking knees she straightened up. Nodding against her lover’s embrace, she silently told him she was okay to move.
Speed was an impossibility. Victor held onto Melissa, the pair breathing heavily. Even not knowing where they were, Victor knew where not to go, and that was the same direction as the kidnapper. Victor knew pain, he felt it now, but it was nothing compared to what he imagined Melissa was suffering through. Every minute or so, she’d slow, her belly shrinking and her legs naturally attempting to spread wider. It wouldn’t work, there was no way she could break that belt. At one point she’d nearly fallen, only held up by all the reserves of strength he had. The pressure within her body had to be intense, because with their daughters exit blocked, more amniotic fluid came instead.
Ten minutes, that was all either of them managed before Victor was too tired to keep her upright. It was forewarned by a single stumble, his hand planting on a tree. Eyes unfocused, he squinted off into the woods.
“What’s that…” He said, trying to get a better look.
Melissa was in the midst of a forceful contraction, bearing down fruitlessly with all the strength her body demanded in its hopeless attempt. Left gasping, she cradled her belly with soothing motions and followed the direction of Victor’s gaze.
The pain was blinding them both, but it looked like a man made shape; square, with a triangular top, hidden in the distance within a thinning patch of woodland.
“Is… is that a c-cabin-?” She whispered with laboured breaths, not trusting her own eyes. But when Victor squinted and nodded, the tiny dying ember of hope inside her glowed just a little.
With heavy cumbersome steps they moved through the forest keeping one eye on the large shadow of the cabin, afraid it would disappear like a mirage. But each step they took only brought more of the building into view. Wooden and very clearly abandoned from the decay and rot of the outside slats. There was a narrow porch along the front with two murky windows and an olive green door.
“It is…” Victor said, disbelief in his voice. Of all the things he’d expected to find out here, a hunting cabin, albeit an abandoned one, was a godsend. “Holy shit… it is.” He found himself smiling at her.
With renewed hope, the couple limped their way to the cabin, the support they provided one another blending into an inspiring urgency to reach their destination. The steps up were difficult, with Victor having to hold Melissa’s waist as her restricted movement caused issues. He followed, palm still pressed to his side. The wheezing of his breaths was far worse now, but that did nothing to dampen the hope in his eyes. Muttering a prayer, Victor reached for the handle. It was unlocked!
“Inside.” He said, gently guiding her in.
The moonlight cast shadows across the room, its dirty windows only allowing a fraction of the light to enter. The cabin was minimalist, as one would expect of a hunting abode. A cot laid in the corner, lot blankets that reeked of mildew crumbled at the foot. A wood stove in the opposite corner with a small smoke stack stretching to the ceiling. There was also a table with a seat, and some boxes strewn here and there. Victor couldn’t have cared less. This place was warm, and it was dry.
Melissa staggered on unsteady legs into the dark abandoned room and practically slapped her palms against the table as she bore down yet again. The black fabric of her dress was hitched and gathered at her hips and caught up in the belt that wrapped tight between her thighs. The movements of her body were completely involuntarily; hips jutting backwards and circling ever so slightly in a desperate attempt to move the baby out of its current position where it filled the birth canal completely. Primal sounds of effort echoed in the empty cabin as she struggled to give birth with the leather holding her hostage.
When the contraction let her go she slumped over the table, too nervous at the idea of sitting on the hard wooden chair and not wanting to go anywhere near the bed that smelt of damp and mildew. Bending at the waist Melissa folded her arms on the table, opening her hips as much as she was able, and rested her head exhaustedly into the crook of her elbow.
“V-Victor…. I can’t do this… much longer… I can’t cope….” Her words were thick with defeat and exhaustion and pain.
His body called this place safe, but his mind refused to believe that. Victor nearly hit the ground as he tried to sit, only catching himself on the table at the last second. Finding that he saw two separate chairs, he decided against it. In their current condition there was no way Melissa could get him up.
“Not, long.” He told her, trying and failing to be reassuring. Melissa needed the bed, but there was no telling what was growing on it. He needed bandaging for his stomach, the bleeding was slow, but only because he thoroughly believed he was running out. The rear wall was decorated with what appeared to be an old pelt. Not clean, but far from the disgusting green on the mattress. He moved, forcing himself to ignore Melissa’s noises. He couldn’t be distracted, not yet. Once the bed had a covering he would get her onto it, undo the belt, and they’d have a baby. It was so simple.
The pelt was huge, a bear by his best guess. He tore it down, the old rusted nails tearing through the old leather. Melissa watched him shuffle painfully to the bed, putting it over everything. It would have to do. Next, he started to rummage. The multiple boxes had an assortment of supplies, all of which were long past their expiration dates. One though, was a red metal tin. A first aid kit.
“Nnnnngh—Victor—get this off me—!” Melissa groaned, holding herself up on the table by one elbow while her hands scrambled at the leather between her legs trying to find the buckle. She couldn’t see in the dark, nor over her swollen belly that hung low and obscured her vision.
Every nerve in her body was trembling and desperate. As her hands brushed her cut and bruised inner thighs she grunted and pushed again, the head was right fucking there, so close and yet trapped behind the leather contraption.
Her sounds got louder the more desperate she became. “I— need to have this baby— get it out— get it outta of me—” Though they were inside a wooden cabin it would certainly not contain the noises of a birthing mother and Victor hobbled to her side to try and calm and quiet her down.
“Fuck. I know it hurts but Mel you have to be quiet.” He hissed. Injuries would wait. He had to help her first. He tried to rig her dress higher to reach the buckle. Where had he put it? It, it wasn’t… Victor violently shook his head to try and force his eyes to work. Too loud, she was too loud! Victor found the buckle, just beneath her left buttock. His fingers wouldn’t work, the blood loss causing motor function to fade. And there was no way she could reach it.
“Well…” A voice said from the doorway. “If I was an insecure man, I’d say you were trying to have your way with my woman…” Victor turned, only to see the kidnapper standing there, shotgun aimed squarely at his chest. “That’s my little bastard in there body boy. Not yours.”
He didn’t know why, but Victor tried to throw himself at the man. Was it a vain hope? Some poorly judged attempt at saving Melissa? It didn’t matter in the end. The stock hit Victor squarely in the temple, knocking him to the ground. He was out before he hit the wood.
“Now… my dear… how’s my bastard?” He moved closer to where Melissa was, sticking a hand between her thighs. When he found the belt, he frowned. “You naughty girl… that’s why they aren’t here.”
A fierce maternal instinct had Melissa shoving her elbows back hard, protecting herself and the baby against the vile man who had pressed up behind her bent position over the table.
In the brief moment the Boss stumbled backwards Melissa tried to make a run for it. With the belt around her thighs and a baby wedged deep in her pelvis she didn’t get far before the man had grabbed her and threw her down onto the pelt-covered bed.
Melissa cried out in pain as her backside and hips collided with the uneven mattress, sending shockwaves of agony from her pelvis all the way up her spine. “Wh—why are y-you doing t-this—?” She panted, tears and fear reflecting in her eyes, her hands wrapped around her large womb.
The man crawled over her body, ragged and wild, his hands sliding up her bruised and bloodied thighs with predatory slowness. “You ruined everything… you were supposed to be a good little hostage until your daddy gave in to our demands. Now my men are all dead… but this baby—” His rough hand cupped the bulge between her legs and made a sickening noise of enjoyment. “This baby that’s oh so desperate to come out…. Will be my consolation prize.”
With the glee of a hyena catching a baby antelope, he took a fistful of her dress and yanked, tearing it as part caught on Victors buckle. Delight filled those eyes, and he sat the shotgun down beside Melissa. To him, she was less than a threat, she was a source of entertainment. Take the baby, and then probably kill the mother. No doubt the senator would pay handsomely for that. Melissa thrashed as he placed his hand on her womb.
“Be a good girl.” He growled. “And maybe I’ll let you mother a second bastard.” Leaning in closer, he purred. “Go ahead, give in. Beg, and I’ll remove the belt.”
The hot stench of his breath on her face, combined with the white hot pain between her legs, nearly had Melissa vomiting. As his hand rested possessively on the bare patch of skin showing through the torn fabric of her black dress, her muscles contracted violently and she couldn’t stop herself from pushing.
His touch was like daggers on her skin, but she was in no condition to fight or push him away. Mother Nature was screaming at her and left her unable to do anything but push. The kidnapped groaned with pleasure as she pushed right in front of him, both his hands splayed across her belly in gleeful fascination as it contorted in on itself, muscles tight and squeezing the baby down.
“Yes….. ohhh look at you… so full and desperate to birth your bastard babe…” he sneered, almost grinding on her thighs as she beared down uncontrollably.
Melissa gagged and grunted and pushed, trapped beneath this deranged animal of a man, torn between wanting to birth her baby and keeping her safe in her womb. But the choice was not hers to make. She couldn’t move and there was a strong piece of leather strapped across her crotch, leaving her in a perpetual state of almost-crowning. Her eyes scrunched and tears rolled down her cheeks with each reluctant push, and with the man straddling her swollen body Melissa didn’t see the slow movement happening on the floor of the cabin beside the table.
Victors eyes opened. The kidnapper was so unhealthily obsessed with Melissa that he’d not even bothered to double check that Victor was dead. He watched Melissa pushing, and the great pleasure the man was receiving in return. He had to get him off of her.
Rage boiled from deep within, even more so when he saw the little box the kidnapper had removed from his pocket to dangle before her. The ring Victor was planning to propose with. With all his strength, he lunged.
While Victor was a bigger man in almost all respects, the kidnapper was nowhere near as exhausted as the couple was. It didn’t matter. This fucker was going to die for what he’d done. Victor's forearm wrapped around his neck, the other coming to lock it in place. The bodyguard flexed, his body screaming at him to stop. Caught by surprise, the kidnapper kicked his legs out, throwing them both back to the ground. This was the flaw in Victors improvisation. In a ground game, he was severely outmatched. With the loss of body functions and severe lack of breathing capability, he would run out of strength before he’d knock out the kidnapper.
“M-Mel!” He called, as if she could help, or maybe he wanted her to run? Melissa was stuck there, watching the father of her child dying all the while trying to kill the man who’d hurt them both. And in all the chaos, their baby girl wanted to come. “Sh-shoot!” His frantic eyes flicked to the gun that was still on the bed, and the one shell he was sure it still housed.
Following his gaze Melissa looked across the bed and saw the gun. But she couldn’t move— couldn’t stop pushing— and the gun lay just out of reach.
The cracking sound of bones colliding echoed through the cabin and Melissa looked up in time to see the kidnapper slam a punch at Victor’s face, blood spitting from his mouth as his head went back into the floor. Everything was happening so fast, Melissa didn’t know what to do… couldn’t form a single thought.
She clamped a hand between her thighs, pressing upwards against the emerging baby to allow her legs to close a fraction, to provide counter pressure that might just grant her a few seconds of cohesive thought. With her free hand she rolled onto her side with a groan and grabbed the gun.
Sitting wide legged on the edge of the bed, both hands now shaking and holding the weapon up, she took aim. In the darkness it was impossible to tell who was who, the men rolling and punching and kicking on the dirty wooden floor. One second Victor came into view, the next it was the madman— what if she got it wrong?! What if she shot the father of her child??
The baby kicked, a contraction starting up again, and her body was suddenly bearing down automatically. As the pressure in her groin jumped to astronomical levels her whole body tensed as it gave in to the push…. including her fingers that had been hovering over the trigger.
Since their first meeting, Victor had only taken her shooting once. Even with the proper technique, any attempt to use it was squashed when their daughter forced her mother to push.
There was a flash of light, followed by the sensation of being kicked in the shoulder by a mule. Such pain was an afterthought thanks to her body’s constant need to push. Her eyes had been shut, the force of the contraction too much for her to keep them open. The gun fell to the ground, and a thud followed soon after. A body, she’d hit someone, Victor? The kidnapper? The darkness made it impossible to tell. All she could hear was her heartbeat, her cries, and the straining of the leather still between her legs.
“V-Vi—“
She heard coughing. And fear swelled.
Backlit by moonlight, someone sat up. Whoever it was moved slowly, dragging themselves across the floor towards the noises she couldn’t stop herself making. It was the kidnapper, she hadn’t killed him, she’d killed Victor! A hand came, gripping hers tightly.
“I, thought. I’d taught you…” Victors voice was hoarse. “Don’t jerk, the trigger.”
Melissa burst into tears. All the fear and pain and exhaustion culminating into one outlet, sobbing with sheer utter relief. “I— I thought I’d— killed you—”
A cloud moved overhead allowing a beam of moonlight through the murky windows and she could now clearly see the man standing in front of her. This rugged handsome man that had entered her life a year ago; her lover, her partner, the father of her child.
She gripped his hands, squeezing tight as she croaked his name in disbelief. Her fingers were curled and trembling as they travelled up his bloodied arms like a ladder trying to reach his face. The need to touch him, to feel his heart beating… the need to make sure he was alright… the need to—
“Nnnnghhh—!” Push! Melissa groaned, her body acting of its own accord, but she didn’t have the strength to aid it anymore. Muscles tensed and contracted, attempting yet again to expel their child but even her body waned in its efforts. Too long had Mother Nature been denied. It was as if her body was giving up, admitting defeat.
He was there for her in an instant. Weak as they both were, renewed strength was found and harnessed by the hope that maybe, just maybe, they’d both survive. With the man dead, there wasn’t a single fathomable reason to stop their girl being born.
“Breathe! Breathe it’s ok I’m here, I’m here.” He tried to soothe her, but knew at this point it wouldn’t do much. She had to push, and he had to help her. Pulling one of his hands from her grip, he started to tug at the belt, trying to enforce his willpower on his fingers to comply. No matter how much he wanted to though, blood loss had rendered them near useless.
When the contraction ended, she was left in agony, their daughter in a nonstop fight with the leather. He could only think of one other way to get them off that was not as dangerous. Melissa would need to stand again.
“Baby, baby listen.” He said, forcing panic out and bringing that authority into his tone to get Melissa to listen through the pain. “Your legs are too wide, I can’t get the belt off.” Victor cupped her cheek, wiping away tears with his thumb. “I’m not going to risk cutting it, not with her so close. So I need you to stand up.”
“I— can’t—” Melissa’s chest heaved with unbridled sobbing. Her bare legs were spread wide over the pelt across the bed, the black fabric of her dress ripped and bunched at her hips, and her spine was barely holding her upright - the only reason she was still sitting was due to her fingers clawing at Victor’s clothing.
Carefully, he bent forward and hooked his hands under her arms and taking some of her weight he slowly moved her to standing. Both of them were beyond weak, trembling, clinging to each other in desperation to get through the final hurdle. When Melissa’s knees threatened to buckle Victor turned her around quickly and guided her over to brace against the bed. Allowing him access to the belt buckle that was just below her left cheek.
The instinct to open, to squat, to push was so hard to ignore and she almost yelled when Victor ushered her legs together. Gritting her teeth, Melissa panted as he tried to work at the bloodied fastening which was also covered with amniotic fluid and mud.
“H-hurry— unghhh—! I— can’t hold it— much longer—” Melissa croaked as the next contraction approached and she dreaded the thought of being stuck like this for a single second longer. And if that contraction struck before the belt came off she feared she’d not be able to withstand another blocked attempt at pushing.
He knew when a body decided to take over, the mind had no power to stop what nature demanded. Melissa’s knees were shaking as she fought, and it would only be precious moments before they were forced apart yet again in a vain attempt to push a baby through a leather strap. He worked as fast as he could, his heart racing and his breathing weakening to a wheeze. Bloodless fingers fumbled with the buckle, taking too long. Melissa’s legs were spreading.
“Fucker!” Victor growled, angry at his body for failing them both. Unable grab, Victor tried one last desperate gambit. Teeth bared, he bit the leather laced through the buckle, tugging at it. It worked, albeit a bit too well. Leather tightened before it loosened, pinching Melissa’s thigh to the point of bleeding. But that was an afterthought. The belt was undone, and their baby girl had no more restrictions.
“PUSH!”
The sound that came from Melissa was raw and desperate and primal. Legs spreading wide, fingers clawing at the bear pelt, she succumbed to her body’s demands. The baby had been stuck at a partial crown for so long her skin almost felt numb, a coping mechanism to the near-constant burn she’d felt for so long. But as she beared down fully, giving all her remaining strength down between her legs, the head moved and a white hot burning screeched through her senses.
“Nnnghhh!!— fuck—!” She wheezed between pushes, before her body returned urgently to its task. As if it was fearful the ability to push could be taken away at any minute.
Victor's hands were holding her hips, thumb affectionately squeezing in encouragement. Knowing he was alive, he was with her, delivering his daughter… It gave her hope and strength. A guttural roar of effort bounced off the dusty cabin walls as the head reached a full crown.
She was right there…
Medical knowledge notwithstanding, it wasn’t a leap of logic for Victor to discern that the little tuft of red hair caked in amniotic fluid was actually their baby girls head. He’d been right, a little victory that he loved came true. This baby was going to look just like her mom. He smiled widely, though he knew Melissa couldn’t see.
“She's right here baby! Got her momma's hair too!” He said, the excitement in his voice equal to the day she’d told him she was pregnant. “You held back long enough. Let’s get our girl.” Hands squeezed her hips, a silent affirmation. Victor was going nowhere. Nothing could describe how he felt when the baby’s head was crowning. Joy? Terror? Admiration? Perhaps a combination of all three and many many more. Melissa had always been the strongest person he knew in spirit. She proved that tenfold tonight.
“She— she’s got r-red h-hair-??” Melissa laughed through her crying. The juxtaposition of joy in this moment compared to what was happening only five minutes ago.
As her body tensed with an automatic push, she growled with effort as she felt the full size of her daughter's head stretch her open beyond words, beyond description. Pure determination and feminine strength had Melissa giving it her all, focusing all her energy on one thing - out! Every cell in her body trembled as the head finally breached its widest point and she wailed in pure relief as the head burst free with a spurt of more fluid.
“Ohhhh—god— was that… is the head out??” She gasped, croaking a ragged inhale, recovering from the strain.
It was the head. Hanging down between the thighs of the love of his life, a baby’s scrunched face greeted him. Victor was too amazed and in awe to speak, the words he wished to say dying in his throat. So, he reached out. Melissa felt him let go of her thigh, but before panic could set in that he might have collapsed or passed into unconsciousness, his hand was holding hers. Soaked in the very fluid that had been keeping their daughter suspended, he guided her down between her legs till fingers met flesh that was not her own.
“She’s right here Mel.” Victor said, finding his voice. She could hear the emotion weighted in it, and accurately assumed tears fell as well. “Our baby is almost here.” He looked back between her thighs, ready for the inevitable moment that she would push.
“Oh wow…. Hi baby….” Melissa’s fingers trembled as they touched the slimy surface of their daughter's head. Making first contact with the little life she had been growing for the last nine months. Beneath the pads of her fingertips was a face, a little nose, pouting lips. This moment would be forever ingrained in her memories.
Then the baby turned, the feeling was unlike anything she’d ever felt. In a brief moment of uncertainty Melissa let go of her daughters head and grabbed the edge of the bed once more, needing something stable to hold on to as her body began to prepare for the next hurdle.
“Ohhhh… oh this feels weird…. I think… uhhhh…fuck gotta push—again—” she blurted a warning before her hips went back and her knees went down, half squatting in a natural instinctive movement.
The squeezing of her muscles, the focusing of effort, it was all beyond consciousness. Melissa was simply moving as nature demanded while their daughters shoulders pressed against and then stretched her opening once more. “Nnnnnghh!— she’s coming— she’s coming out!!—” she cried out as a rumbling grunt echoed from deep in her chest.
Victor could do nothing but watch. Their girl rotated ninety degrees. Melissa’s body was done holding back. He didn’t know how fast this was supposed to go.
“Oh, oh! Oh!” First a shoulder, then the other, and less than a second later with a splash of her remaining amniotic fluid, a baby was in Victors waiting arms. His eyes were wide, not even hearing Melissa asking if the baby was ok. She was so tiny, so absolutely perfect. The baby was still connected to Melissa through the cord, yet something else that Victor wished he knew what to do about. The world stayed silent, until it broke and a shrill cry of a screaming baby filled the air.
“She’s here!” Victor said, finding his voice. “Mel she’s here!”
It felt like the world had stopped turning. That sound. That precious musical sound filled Melissa’s heart with more love and relief imaginable. Somehow she kept strength in her trembling legs, instead of buckling to the floor she tried to turn around. She wanted to see… she had to see her daughter. But something got caught - the cord.
Automatically Melissa lifted a leg, blood and fluids pouring down her inner thighs, as she tried to step over the cord. Out of the corner of her eyes she could see them; her partner with the delicate wailing infant in his arms, their daughter. Relying on one leg as she raised the other was evidently too much for Melissa’s poor exhausted body and before she could lift it high enough her legs buckled completely, collapsing down to her knees on the harsh wooden floor.
“Mel…” Victor said. She needed to hold their baby, he had to see it. “Baby. Try to roll.” The baby was still crying, sensing her parents fear, being scared, or just hungry, he had no clue. Victor leaned forward, letting the umbilical cord reach all the way to the floor. Just a few inches, that’s all. Just a few. A bright light flashed across the window, so fast that Victor was unsure if it was real. Melissa didn’t notice, or just didn’t acknowledge it.
Victor adjusted the baby, holding her in one tired arm, the other trying to lift Melissa’s leg up so she could sit. He felt himself fading, he needed to see it. He needed to see Melissa hold their daughter.
Melissa barely registered anything other than the cries of her baby. Her leg was in the air, was Victor holding it up?.. she didn’t know, didn’t care. Somehow she was sitting on the floor, on the edge of the pelt that draped off of the bed, her arms reaching out towards the tiny little life that was crying.
Tiny… she was just so tiny. Her fingers were both shaking and secure as she lifted her newborn daughter from Victor's arms and put her immediately to her chest. The tears flowed like rivers down her cheeks as she took her first proper look at the little redheaded baby girl.
“Shhhh… it’s okay little one… mumma’s here…” The automatic softness of her voice was instinctual as she moved her hands across every inch of the babe, every limb, every finger, every toe. She was perfect.
With a bright smile through tears of relief and happiness, Melissa looked up at the love of her life, father of her child, to celebrate the arrival of their daughter. But her smile faded when she saw how ghostly pale he looked, the way he swayed and his eyes rolled.
“Victor—?”
More lights flickered at the edge of Victors vision. All the willpower, all the duty of a bodyguard, a lover, and a father, could no longer keep him here. Melissa saw him smiling, even as his eyes lost focus. Victor tried, one last time to reach out, to hold her hand. So much was left unsaid, so many things he wanted for her, for them both. Thoughts fading into nothingness, he thought about the engagement band. Victor collapsed, the last of his life spent handing his baby girl to her mother.
Sounds filled the cabin, though he couldn’t tell what their source was. Shouting, crying, a baby, their baby. It was the most beautiful sound he’d ever heard.
At the thud of Victor’s body hitting the wooden floor of the cabin, his arm stretched out towards them both, Melissa’s heart shattered and she wailed. The gunshot wound, collapsed lung, the blood loss and the physical brawl with the kidnapper. Her bodyguard had kept her safe and delivered their child but at what cost…
Melissa didn’t notice the flashes of light from outside the cabin, didn’t hear the noises of trucks or shouts in the distance. She crawled over to Victor’s body, one arm wrapping their baby against her chest, the other desperately seeking his ribcage. To feel a heartbeat, to feel his lungs rising with a breath, anything.
She was sobbing hysterically over her partner when the doors burst open - a search party sent by her father. Suddenly there were people, so many people, so many voices. But none of them were Victor’s. They had to prise her away from Victor’s body, medic’s appearing from nowhere to examine both Melissa and the baby. She watched as another medical person in uniform knelt beside and worked on Victor.
“I’ve got a heartbeat!” They yelled.
Melissa swayed with sheer, utter relief and the medic examining her had to catch her before she slipped to the floor.
“Whoa… easy there Miss.” the young Medic said, holding her steady and guiding her towards a stretcher that someone had brought into the cabin. “He’s in the best hands. We’ll get you all to the hospital, don’t worry. You’re safe.”
~•~
Beeping. Incessant and rhythmic. The first sensation Victor felt was a dull, aching throb in his stomach. He went to sit up, but realized his body wouldn’t allow such a thing. With agonizing slowness, his eyes opened. A white room, one that smelled of disinfectant and the most heinous fake lavender air freshener he could imagine. He blinked again, eyes focusing a little more. Where the Hell was he? Was this a hospital? He tried to speak, finding that his throat was raw from disuse. Logic left as memories flooded. Mel, their daughter, where?! Panic set in, the bodyguards eyes frantically darting side to side, utterly unfocused.
He moved again, a groan coming from his throat, followed by a series of rasping coughs loud enough to wake the slumbering Melissa, who he hadn’t realized was occupying the bed beside him. Nor did he see the little girl dressed in a bright pink onesie in the crib between them.
Hearing a noise Melissa stirred, automatically shhhing as she pushed herself up in bed, assuming her daughter was hungry. “It’s okay little one… hi…. Mummy’s here…”
But as she blinked herself awake and stared at the sleeping baby, her eyes landed on Victor. Awake. His eyes were open.
“Oh my gosh… Victor…” She threw the blanket off her bed and ignoring the soreness of her body she slipped out of her bed immediately going to his side. “Victor… you’re awake… you’re okay.”
Her hands wrapped around one of his, the one without the IV drip, the one she frequently had held while he was unconscious and recovering from surgery. Bending forwards she brushed a kiss to the back of his hand.
“I’d…. I thought I’d lost you…” her words a fearful whisper against his skin.
Victor coughed again, trying to moisten his throat to speak. Melissa helped, giving him a small sip of water through a straw. It took a few moments, but he eventually was able to muster the strength.
“Not. That. Easy.” He said, smiling. If Victor was honest, he thought he was dead. The bloodloss, the injuries. Even now he felt his ribs grinding together. “W-where…” He looked around, spotting the little baby still asleep in her bed. She was ok, their baby girl was ok. Focus returned to Melissa, eyes scanning her up and down. Bruises and cuts covered most of her body, but that smile.
“How long?” He asked, gulping painfully.
“Nearly two days.” Melissa said with a painful smile, those two days had been torture. Not knowing if he was going to make it through the countless surgeries, how or even if, he would recover from his injuries.
“I’ve told my father about us. I kinda had to. I may have thrown a fit when the doctors suggested moving you elsewhere.” Melissa giggled, still keeping her hands on his torso, as if making sure this was all real. That he was really awake and alive. “They weren’t giving me any information about you, said it was “family only”. So now everyone knows… about us. About her.”
Melissa turned around, bending to pick up their newborn baby daughter wrapped in a pink cotton onesie with daisies printed all over. Her little hands balled into fists grabbing Melissa’s hospital gown as she placed her head into the crook of her arm and against her chest.
“She’s perfect Victor. You kept her safe. You kept us all safe.” Melissa couldn’t stop her eyes from welling up, holding her daughter in her arms and placing her gently against Victor’s side so he could get a better view.
“Look at that…” He said, utter disbelief in his voice. Victor reached out, brushing his fingers along their daughters cheek. She quietly fussed, and Victor instinctually recoiled, worried he’d hurt her. It took Melissa’s reassurance to convince him otherwise. “She looks just like her mom.” Victor continued to brush the baby's cheek, his eyes bouncing between her, Melissa, and the new ring that now sat upon her third finger.
“You got the ring. Sorry that it wasn’t as romantic as I’d planned.” Victor adjusted in the bed, wincing, but accepting the pain in order to get closer to his fiancé and their daughter. “If it’s been two days… Did you name her already?”
“The police found the ring and I erm… assumed.” Melissa smiled brightly, holding up the diamond proudly and catching it in the florescent hospital lights. “You saved my life, and delivered our baby, I’d say that was pretty romantic.”
She bent forward, carefully keeping the little girl secure between them as her lips brushed tenderly against Victor’s. Full of so much emotion, love, and gratitude. Pulling away slowly, the baby stirred and disturbed her parents' reconciliation.
“I haven’t named her yet, I wanted to wait for you to wake up, but I have thought of a name. After everything we went through to bring her into this world safely, I keep thinking about how we managed to escape… if it wasn’t for that river in the forest we never would have made it as far as we did.” Melissa looked down at the pink cheeks of her redhead daughter, nestled between her parents.
Co-written with the wonderful and endlessly imaginative @shhhsecretsideblog
First entry into the Spell-verse, a series of stories revolving around a town blanketed by a rapid pregnancy and birth spell.
The news already had coined a name for it. Go figure, Char thought, shaking her head at the display of pure pseudoscience on the screen before her.
“Yes, that’s right,” a reporter spoke. “Emergency services have taken a census and The Spell seems to have affected every person able to bear children in the town.”
“The Spell,” Char scoffed, shaking her head. “Call it a virus, a fluke of biology, whatever. Just don’t chalk it up to magic.”
Because if it was magic, that would mean her science would be ineffectual on the obvious life growing inside her belly, now looking full-term with a baby that she hadn’t been pregnant with this morning. It rippled, hanging low between the scientist’s thighs. She placed a palm on her stretched tummy. The evidence, she thought, speaks for itself.
“Shouting at the tele again Char?” Laura said as she waddled into their lab. Her long white coat hung open at her sides, her own newly formed bump making the coat too small to fit round her frame.
“Got you a coffee.” She passed the hot drink to her boss and went over to sit on the stool by her own workstation. It took a bit of navigating, still not used to this extra weight she now carried, but eventually she plumped herself on the high metal chair.
“I mean, they aren’t wrong calling it ‘The Spell.’ What’s happening here is unheard of. All these pregnancies are popping up very much like magic.” Laura rubbed the circumference of her large belly that now sat heavily atop her thighs. She could feel the baby moving inside, it was so strange. Pregnancy and birth was never something she thought she’d experience. She understood it, she knew all about the process, but it was something else entirely actually experiencing it. And going through it all within the space of a day was a bit of a rollercoaster.
They’d done scans and knew they were carrying human babies, it wasn’t anything supernatural or alien, but it was just the speed, it was unprecedented. The baby in her womb shifted and kicked her in the ribs “Oof!” She huffed. “I don’t think I’ll ever get used to this.” Laura commented to her boss.
Char nodded, smothering the instinct to cup her own belly as devoted her attention back to her work.
“Hopefully, you won’t have to. We’ll find a way to reverse the process without delivery and things will—“ she paused, startled by a twinge in her stomach muscles and the subsequent squirming of the baby inside her. She cleared her throat. “Things will return to normal and we can take the time to research this phenomenon thoroughly.”
Secretly, Char’s urgency stemmed from another reason—already she’d struggled to adapt to the feeling of her body so unrecognizably changed, the idea of a passenger inside her, her body growing and stretching to accommodate it without any of her say in it. Even the tiniest signs of motherhood she steadfastly resisted, trying not to waddle or hold her heavy mound, wearing her usual lab wear instead of anything more comfortable. Yet—
She knew this was nothing compared to birth. She also knew that they were on a strict time limit. Shaking her head, she dispelled these thoughts. ‘We don’t have to worry about that. All we have to worry about is finding a cure,’ she thought.
“You really think we can find a cure before these babies are born?” Laura asked hesitantly. She knew how her boss was handling this sudden change in their bodies, and it wasn’t very well. Not that she’d admit it. She disappeared quickly into the work when it first started happening to people and completely ignored the signs this morning that it was happening to them both as well.
“I’ve heard that some people are already starting to give birth… we might not have the time. Not before these ones are born anyway.” Laura patted her bump affectionately. She wasn’t fighting this as much as her boss. Yes it was a shock, but Laura was leaning into the experience, it was fascinating.
She noticed her belly start to twinge, felt similar to period pains. Laura shifted in her chair, trying to ease the uncomfortable feeling, her legs widening on the stool to fit her rounded stomach in between. “Have you had any twinges or cramps or anything?” Laura asked.
Char glanced at Laura, absorbing the gravity of her condition, the way her midsection protruded from her open lab coat and her discomfort that so mirrored Char’s own. “Nope,” she lied easily, convincing herself that it was the weight she was now carrying, that the pressure in her hips and the aching of her back was all because of the new load in her belly.
“Well, I’m not exactly hasty to get these babies out the old-fashioned way,” Char said.
A part of her shared sentiments with Laura, though. Call it a scientific curiosity, but the process of birth was quite a marvel. Another cramp seized her belly and she stiffened slightly, bearing it without note. Her own belly hung low, having dropped without her realizing, but Laura’s taut, overhanging swell was immediately apparent to her.
How about you?” She asked while peering into a microscope.
“I’m not sure… I’m feeling something… oof—” Laura took a sharp breath as the ache peaked before easing off again. “It’s probably just my body adjusting to the quick pregnancy. I’m not in a hurry to give birth myself.”
She didn’t want to say it but the rate at which their stomachs had swelled, Laura didn’t think they would have long before the pangs of labor hit. It was difficult to ascertain how “far along” they were, given the speed in the growth, but judging by the bumps alone Laura guessed her and Char were developing at the same rate.
“We better work fast then, before either of us goes into labor.” Or both of us, Laura thought to herself.
Char pressed her lips together at the reminder, and without knowing she palmed the underside of her swollen stomach, attempting to soothe the tightened muscles.
“Yes, right. Could you come over here and we can analyze these lab reports together. Bring the files from the corner bench, please.”
Her back ached, yet she was too restless to sit and besides, she always worked while standing. She’d be damned if she let this baby inside of her intrude on her routine.
“Sure thing.” Laura said to Char’s instruction. Holding her taut stomach, Laura slipped off the stool onto her feet and waddled over to the corner bench to pick up the files.
Standing seemed to have jolted her baby, feeling the weight sink lower into her hips as it kicked. A sudden sharp tightening slashed across her belly causing her to gasp and grab on to the table. “Mnngh!” She groaned as the muscles pulled and squeezed, its intensity surprising.
“Char… hooo… I think I might be having a con-contraction…” Laura panted through the pain, hips instinctively swaying beneath the white lab coat.
Char snapped her head up from the microscope to see Laura doubled over, clutching the table. With her back flat, her weighty belly seemed to strain toward the ground, dragged downward by gravity. Char watched as Laura swayed her hips in an almost hypnotic pattern, as though instinct had taken over. Her panting, even, seemed instinctual, the sounds of an imminent mother.
“Laura? Hey—“ Char struggled to walk without a waddle, across the room to Laura. She was stopped by a squeezing in her tummy that took her breath away, the entire surface hardening painfully. She dismissed it before it even ended. ‘Braxton Hicks,’ she thought. ‘No big deal. I have time…. Laura, I’m not so sure.’
She placed a palm on Laura’s lower back and she breathed and swayed. “You’re okay,” she said, her usual brisk tone softening. “Just breathe.”
“Hoooo-hoooo…..” Laura forced herself to take measured breaths, in and out, breathing through the sudden pain. Her head dipped and her eyes scrunched, the weight and pressure suddenly peaking before gradually fading away. Slowly the assistant straightened back up and faced her friend (?) and boss.
“Jeeze, that was… intense.” She breathed, rubbing the underside of her belly. “I wasn’t expecting that to come on so fast. Guess I’m in labor. I’ll start running a log of all my symptoms so we can add to our research.” She picked up the earlier requested files and handed them to her boss, noticing a slight glistening of sweat on Char’s forehead. “You still doing okay?”
Char nodded, appearing uncharacteristically distracted. She made an effort to straighten her back, feeling the clamping around her womb subside for now.
“Fine,” she said. Then, appreciative of Laura’s dedication to their studies, “Good work, Laura. If it gets to be too much for you, let me know. Until then, we’ll work around the clock and develop a cure before you progress too far.”
And, before I do as well, Char added to herself.
Noting Laura’s significantly widened stance and the way she stroked and circled her dropped belly, Char felt a twinge of apprehensiveness.
As they worked, fighting the clock, Char listened to Laura’s pained breaths become sharper. Eventually she began to vocalize, softly at first, closing her eyes and rocking her body back and forth, making slight grunts and moaning under her breath.
Char wasn’t in a much better state. Her contractions had grown into strong, regular surges and every time her belly seized up she could only focus on it and the baby inside it preparing to be born. Born, she thought. Not if I can help it. Her familiarity with the process and inevitability of birth did nothing to halt this line of thinking. Yet with each contraction she felt like nothing else existed but her swollen, contracting belly. She released a breath after a particularly brutal one. There was so much pressure. She felt it deep in her hips, wanting so badly to open herself up all the way.
Laura let out a pained groan herself, and Char glanced up.
“H-how are you, mm, holding up?” She asked the other laboring woman.
“As w-well as can be expected… hoooo…” Laura held her heavy belly with one hand, the other leant on her workstation as she swayed through the pain. “They are really picking up now Char, oof, the pressure is a lot.”
The lab assistant had abandoned her chair a while ago, finding the most comfortable position was to stand at her desk as it allowed her to follow her body’s rhythm and its instinct to move. Plus the baby was sinking way too low to be sitting down on that ridiculous high stool. She had spent entire days on that chair working before The Spell, but that idea seemed downright ludicrous to Laura now.
Their research seemed to be slow moving, and it wasn’t entirely down to the fact she was in labor, the science just wasn’t providing them with answers, still proving to be a mystery. She’d been keeping track of her contractions, which were getting dangerously closer together and time was running out.
Whilst the waves of pain coursing through her body every five minutes were consuming, Laura wasn’t oblivious to the fact her boss was also struggling. Perhaps it was because of her own labor she could recognise the signs; the way Char kept moving around the lab and never stayed still, her heavy breathing and occasional moan, and the way her hips would shift and bounce when she thought Laura wasn’t looking. Yup, her boss was almost certainly in labor too. But Laura knew better than to ask her outright.
“Are you feeling okay Char? You’ve been on your feet for quite a w-while now..”
Char tried to imagine sitting and found she couldn’t, with the baby dropped so low, the head pressing heavily on her cervix. She knew from the strain in Laura’s voice and her repeated movements around the room that she was feeling the same pressure and slowly increasing urgency. She wanted to moan, openly sway and rotate her hips against the excruciating pressure, to release instinctual grunts with her contractions like Laura. But, not yet. She couldn’t be in active labor.
“Just frustrated,” Char growled. “We’ve barely made progress and this current batch of tests has yielded no results whatsoever…. mmgh!” She winced, closing her mouth so as not to cry out as a contraction clamped her midsection.
“Also,” she added. “I might—urgh, be experiencing some Braxton Hicks.”
“Oh… braxton hicks… okay.” Laura acknowledged calmly, knowing full well there was nothing false about the pains plaguing Char. “Just try and b-breathe through them. They’ll soon pass. You can move around you know, follow your body’s instincts if you need to, I’m sure it would help with the, errr—false labor pains.”
They continued working in relative silence, except from the unusual noises Laura found herself making through the pains. She thought she heard her boss whimper, and asked “Is there anything I can do to h-help?”
Not that she was capable of doing much, the pains were so strong now she could barely do anything other than catch her breath between waves. Laura stayed close to her work bench, not daring to move too far for fear she’d crumble to the floor. Her bump hung heavy and low off her hips, her baby was pressing hard against her cervix clearly marking its exit. A particularly forceful contract had Laura folded over against the bench, forearms on the white surface, hips jutting back, and her head buried in the crook of her elbow. Her groans had turned more primal, the pressure building to the point she almost mooed like a cow. Something was slipping down, she could feel it. With a grunt Laura felt something give and the immediate dampness that followed trailing down her leg.
“Ummm… Char? Hoooo… I think my water broke.” Laura whimpered into her arm, not daring to move.
Char turned when she heard Laura’s animalistic groans and grunts, undeniably the noises of a woman deep in labor. She saw Laura standing wide-legged, a wet patch forming on her lab trousers and puddling the floor beneath her. Her cheeks were flushed with exertion, and Char knew she was feeling the same pressure against her widening cervix as herself, increasingly overcome with the sensation of the head moving into position, the instinctive need to open herself up for the baby getting ready to come out of her.
“Laura—! Hooo um, okay,” Char faltered, taking large waddling steps to Laura and cursing the weight in her pelvis and the unwieldiness of her belly. .Normally in control of the situation, she felt lost at the sight of Laura’s waters puddled on the floor. This was an uncontrollable variable. No matter how much they wanted to keep their babies in, once their bodies decided it was time there was little they could do. But Char wasn’t ready to give in yet.
“I’ll, mmgh, find you some towels,” she promised Laura.
In the hallway she suffered another contraction, and found herself vocalizing freely without Laura around, lowing insistently and arching her back. Without knowing, her knees bent slightly, beginning to sink into a squat. She realized what she was doing and tried to hold herself upright against the hallway wall, but by then the contraction was upon her and she felt a sudden burst of fluid from between her legs.
“Oh…. shit,” she murmured, panting hard.
When she returned with the towels, she met Laura’s gaze and knew that they were both feeling the urgency of birth. They were almost out of time.
The contraction had waned when Char left the room and Laura slowly righted herself and breathed quietly, taking stock of the situation, letting her body adjust and working with the new sensations. The baby was definitely on its way, there was no doubt about that. The breaking of her waters had helped ease the excruciating pressure which had been building, but Laura became more keenly aware of the shape of the baby in her womb without its cushioning.
Taking deep and steady breaths, Laura tried to calm her mind and body. It was during this almost meditative state that she heard the unmissable sound of a woman in deep labor from the corridor. She knew exactly who it was.
Char was a very methodical woman, set in her ways, but she was strong and determined which was a necessity in this field of work. Laura respected her immensely. But it was no surprise to the assistant that her boss was fighting this and seemingly was fighting it to the very end. At some point Char would admit she was in labor, she would have to if she was going to birth her baby. Laura just hoped she would be able to help Char through it when the time comes, and not be consumed by her own birth.
When Char came back she was flushed and sweaty, but gritted a smile as she passed Laura a towel. Laura noticed her boss kept one for herself… strange.
Laura threw the towel on the floor and used her foot to wipe the liquid that was now puddled at her feet. Her trousers were wet but she didn’t want to take them off, she might have known Char for years but wasn’t quite ready to be walking around half naked in front of her boss.
“This baby is definitely coming, I can feel its head right down in my pelvis.” Laura announced, cupping the underside of her large swell almost trying to hold it up. “How are you holding up Char through your… practice contractions?”
Even without her announcing it, Char could tell how close Laura was to birthing her baby, her stance and dropped belly unmistakable as signs of her imminent birth. Laura, she knew, was dependable, and though Char would rarely admit it, she relied on Laura and her stability and her easier personality tended to balance Char’s own stubbornness. Her patience was beginning to wear Char down, and she almost admitted then. The head was huge against her dilated cervix, and she could feel it oriented, ready to descend. Everything was moving painfully downwards. She could no longer even pinch her knees together, so wide was her gait. It felt as if the baby would drop out of her if she spread too wide.
“I-I think I’m, I’m in—“ Char was cut off by another contraction, doubling over with an urgent grunt, so unlike her normally composed and cool attitude. “Ohhhh,” she moaned, closing her eyes. She gritted her teeth, eyes squeezed shut as the contraction began to peak and she clutched blindly at her rigid, taut belly.
“Oh Char…” Laura said, waddling over to her boss, keeping one hand on a bench for support. “I think you’re in labor, hun.”
Char was completely doubled over, clutching her large and heavy belly, and grunting wildly. There was no way she could keep denying her situation now surely. Laura put a hand on Char’s back and rubbed up and down her spine in support. “It’s okay, just breathe through the contraction. Slowly, don’t panic, in and o-outttt…”
Laura was cut off by a contraction of her own, and without her waters it was aggressive and forceful. She immediately spun around, grabbing the nearest bench, and groaned deeply as she fell into a slight squat. The baby was slamming against her cervix, squeezing its way into her birth canal, and Laura had no choice but to push with the force of the contraction.
She tried not to panic, to stay calm, but the head filling her canal was almost making her nauseous. She wanted to tell Char but couldn’t speak, not that her boss could do anything as she was dealing with a contraction of her own right now. The only option left was to ride the wave, and follow her instincts.
Over the din of her own uncontrollable noises Char could hear Laura’s straining groans as she bore down fiercely, primal with the urgency of a birthing mother. Char tried to change her posture but the feeling of the baby descending, pressing down forcefully against her cervix was too much for her to bear standing, and she clasped her hands on her thighs as she squatted, desperate for relief. The contraction peaked, and though she tried to control her breathing, sucking in air at first, by the ends of her breaths she found herself grunting slightly. She gave a gasp, realizing that she was pushing. No! No, no! She thought desperately. You’re a scientist. This is your lab, and you have control. Try as she might, it was impossible to assert control over her laboring body. Her baby was coming, and she was pushing. Still, she tried to resist the urge to push, panting and blowing as the pressure grew and her back flared with pain.
Laura’s contraction seemed to subside a little before Char’s, and Char saw her belly visibly heave as her uterine muscles relaxed. She let out a grunt as the contraction released her. They made eye contact as Char’s contraction began to fade as well. Char shifted her gaze.
“We…. w-we,” she panted, trying to regain her breath. “We have to find this cure. Right now.”
“Char…. Even if we do find a c-cure… what do you t-think is going to happen?” Laura said sternly as she heaved herself back to standing. “These babies,” she patted her bump and also Char’s for effect, “are coming and no cure is going to make them disappear.”
Laura had seen the way Char literally squatted to the ground and pushed, and her clothes were also damp on her bottom half. “I’m saying this as both your friend and colleague, you are in labor just as much as I, and we should prepare for their arrival.”
Laura waddled awkwardly, bowlegged, back to her desk and grabbed a drink of water. Still panting after the latest contraction, she picked up a pen and carried on making notes. “I’ll help you as much as I can, noting everything down about this rapid pregnancy, tracking my symptoms and experience, but we’re going to be giving birth soon. Both of us.”
Char glared weakly as Laura patted her belly. She’d known Laura to be one of her only lab partners to actually stand up to her or challenge her, but even then she was firmly gentle. This was no different except of course so steeped in labor herself Laura had a bit more edge to her, biting just a little. She knew how Laura was feeling. Their babies were so low, pushing heavily into their canals and forcing their bodies to deliver, and she wanted nothing more to stop what she was doing right now, squat down, and let it come. Magic or science, Char and Laura were experiencing their most natural, primal instincts.
But—she couldn’t. She wouldn’t. No, this was HER body. An intruding passenger wouldn’t change that, even as it inched its way through her birth canal and demanded she work hard and concentrate on nothing but pushing it out. Char made a laborious effort to straighten somewhat, though her stance wasn’t much narrower than Laura’s own bowlegged waddle.
“Not, urgh, yet,” Char said. “I’m not having this baby. Mmm…. hoo, I’m grateful to you, Laura, for holding it together for this long. But you n-need to deliver. Please, don’t burden yourself. I’ll finish this cure on my—hmnh, hm. My own.”
She painstakingly toddled to her research table, lifting the hefty weight of her belly as though it would keep the baby from dropping any further.
“Okay, do whatever you wanna do Char.” Laura resigned herself to losing this argument. Her boss was determined but this was next level, bordering on complete denial. Well if Char was feeling even half the sensations Laura was, she’d succumb to this birth soon enough.
Laura needed to prepare for the imminent birth, her recent pushing was a sure sign the baby was close. Slowly, and whilst always holding on to something, the assistant rummaged through the drawers and cupboards in the lab. “Do we have anything we could use for clamps to cut the cord?” She asked aloud, not really expecting an answer from her disgruntled colleague. “Ah, this could work.”
She collected the equipment she’d need to clamp and cut the chord on her desk, and moved the towel on the floor with her feet again mopping up the new liquid that she’d trailed across the floor, not realizing she was still leaking. “I’m gonna go get some more towels.” Laura again spoke aloud but knew her boss had disappeared into her own world.
Laura barely made it to the doorway when another contraction struck, and damn they were close together. Her fingers gripped the wooden frame as her body sank downwards again, the pressure building and building between her legs. “Mnnnghhhhhhhh!!!” Laura grunted, muscles contracting and squeezing the large head further through the birth canal, to the point she could feel herself start to open slightly. “Nghhhhhhh the head…. I can feel it…” Laura mewled as she squatted.
Char listened to Laura’s preparations in the background, doing her best to tune out both Laura’s words and the feeling of a massive head lodged in her birth canal, stretching her from within. Her legs trembled, nearly buckled even without a contraction. She resented herself for pushing but knew from her last contraction that she wouldn’t be able to help from bearing down again. The urge to push, the pressure, it was blurring her vision, and her head pounded dizzyingly. A mantra repeated in her head: ‘Hold it in. Just hold it in a little longer.’ Her stomach felt like a hard stone weighing on her middle even without a contraction. She tried to focus, pulling herself into a chemical analysis of her own birthing fluids she’d swabbed from the towel.
Suddenly, she heard Laura’s loud grunting and her attention was drawn to the doorway to see her assistant bent and squatted, pushing hard into her trousers. She felt a tug of concern.
“Laura? Hun, you okay—?”
The head, she thought. Oh god, she’s still wearing her work trousers.
Before she could even take a single step towards Laura, she felt another contraction grip her. “Oooof,” she grunted deeply. Her knees began to give out and she was forced into a squat even as she tried to remain standing. Gripping the table for dear life, she groaned and growled. Don’t push, she thought. Don’t—
“Ohhhh.” The head shifted down. Her powerful internal muscles shoved it through. “OH—I’m—I-I’m pushinggggg, mmmmgh!”
Laura was consumed by the sensations thrumming through her entire body, it was as if something primal was happening to her - new and unfamiliar, completely out of her control, and yet her body seemed to know what to do. Her knees widened and she sunk deeper into the squat, opening her hips as much as she could. Leaning into the contraction, using it, Laura pushed the heavy weight down. It felt… productive. She knew it was what she should be doing.
The location wasn’t ideal, and she hoped she still had time to collect more towels and set up a more comfortable birthing area. But whilst the contraction raged, Laura submitted to it, letting it work her baby down, slipping further and further towards its exit.
Somewhere in the distance she heard her name being called. After a long push Laura gulped a breath and turned her head to see Char squatting at her desk and crying out that she was pushing. She would laugh if her body hadn’t forced her into another push.
They needed to get set up and quick, Char looked like she was suffering just as much as Laura was. When the contraction waned just a bit, Laura stopped pushing and somehow managed to haul her body back to standing. Char looked okay, well as she could given the situation, riding out a contraction and holding on to the sturdy frame of her workbench.
“I’m getting more towels, hang on Char!” Laura shouted, hoping her boss would hear over the groans Char was making.
Waddling ever so slowly, the head sitting right behind her lips, Laura went off to the cupboard to find more towels. They’d soon need them.
Another contraction struck mere minutes after the last while Laura was in the cupboard but she was not as successful this time in staying on her feet. The force of the contracting muscles and slashing pain splitting her open brought her to her knees. She clung on to the shelf in front of her, her heavy belly squished between widened thighs, and she pushed hard wailing with the effort. The head was peaking through, pushing apart her folds in her underwear. But her body was driving this journey, Laura was just the passenger. After a solid minute the contraction let up and when she released the push with a gasp, the baby slipped back into the birth canal. With a trembling hand she felt the fabric between her legs, she was definitely bulging, but the head wasn’t crowning just yet. She breathed deeply, gathering her strength before getting back on her feet. She needed to get back with the extra towels, not just so she could birth her baby there but so she could help Char. She’d need a friend and the support right now, and so could Laura.
As Laura submitted, pushing freely and loudly as though nothing else mattered in the world except getting her baby out and getting it out now, Char resisted her baby’s inevitable birth. Panicked, she gulped in a breath, trying to ease up on her furious pushing as she felt the head filling her opening thoroughly. It was beginning to bulge her, though her lips remained shut. The pressure and incredible sensation of the head sitting low at her opening, almost ready to exit, was almost too much to bear. She mooed deeply, from the back of her throat. Her belly tightened even harder than before, squeezing her like a vice and she couldn’t help but push again. The baby strained against her opening, and she could feel her most delicate area distending obscenely.
“Oh god!” She cried, throwing her head back as her thighs spread and she pushed again and again uncontrollably. The urge was undeniable. She was subject to her body and right now, it was telling her to birth her baby. Here, now, into her trousers. She felt helpless. Out of control.
“It’s coming,” she moaned. “Ohhh, it’s coming!” She knew this deeply, intuitively, with an age-old maternal instinct. She was ready to birth her baby. But she felt alone and vulnerable.
“Laura,” she gasped, couldn’t say much more than that. “Laura, oh god, it’s coming and I’m pushing! I need to hold it in! Just a little longer!”
She could hear Char’s wailing from the corridor, becoming fast apparent the lead technician was losing her fight against the inevitable. With one arm carrying a load of towels, the other hand pressed against the wall as she waddled heavily back to the office. On walking into the room she saw her friend and colleague in a deep squat, white-knuckling the work bench, chin to chest and pushing. Loudly.
“Oh Char, it’s okay hun.” Laura shut the door behind her and dropped the towels beside her friend. “You have to breathe as well as push darling.” She said as she staggered to her own workbench and grabbed the medical supplies she’d collected. With the baby playing peek-a-boo into her underwear, Laura knew their time was almost up.
Cumbersomely, Laura got down to her knees beside her boss, putting the clamps and scissors on the pile of towels. “Shhhhh it’s okay Char, don’t fight it. Use that contraction and push with the pain.” Laura rubbed a hand up and down Char’s back, trying her best to support and encourage through this.
Unfortunately with their labors progressing in tandem, Laura’s role as carer was snatched away when the next contraction tore its way across her midsection. Instinctively, without intending to, her body was pushing with the pain and she could feel the baby start to leak through again and stretch apart her lips. She went to all fours and rocked, sinking backwards towards her heels whenever she had to bear down.
“Mnnnnghhhhhhh! Come on baby….” She groaned before gasping another breath and pushing hard again. She didn’t care that she was still in her work clothes, or that she was on the floor of a laboratory that was covered with two lots of amniotic fluid, she was simply following her instincts and soon the baby stopped slipping back in and stayed, keeping her lips in a perfect oval shape.
“Ohhhh god… I think it’s starting to c-crownnnn….” The assistant managed to huff when the contraction eventually dulled.
Char’s belly refused to fully relax at this point, now constantly flexing with forceful surging contractions, but there were brief moments of respite where she could pause in her pushing and some awareness returned to her. Laura, she realized, was beginning to tent her pants with pushing, on all fours with her back arched and her hips shoved forward, trying to make as much room for the large crowning head as possible. She was pushing the head into her clothes, Char realized, bulging them ridiculously, and between her spread thighs more fluids dripped and leaked. At the same time she processed this she realized that her own clothes had never been discarded, but she made no effort to remove them in her precious few moments before her body would force her baby further out of her. Instead she clung onto the naive hope that she’d miraculously stumble upon a cure while crowning into her pants, feeling the head beginning to press up against her underwear and part her lips slightly. Laura, she could tell, had offered less resistance to her body and had made more progress in her pushing, the head sitting permanently, she calculated from the bulge in Laura’s pants, at around a half-crown or more.
“Hey,” she croaked hoarsely, barely able to manage anything but grunts with her clenching belly. “You—you need to get your pants down, hun. Head’s coming out.”
Painstakingly, she began to squat down, moaning as the head was pressed back slightly into her sensitive lips by the tension of her underwear. It felt so low, so full, she needed to open up, she needed to push, relieve the immense pressure, yet her friend, yes friend, not just assistant, needed her. As she squatted low, she hooked her fingers around Laura’s waistline.
“I need, urgh, I need you to get your legs together. Mmmm, we gotta get your pants off, ‘kay?”
She was surprised to see Char moving in her peripheral vision, but Laura could pay no mind, for this baby wanted out and it wanted out now.
“Grhhhhh!!! It’s coming out… mnghh!” Laura cried into the next push, bearing down and feeling the head stretch her wider and wider. Her hips were so full, her pelvis felt like it could snap, the pressure of this baby’s head - this large and heavy mass - *needed* to come out.
Char’s attempt to remove her trousers was fruitless, though the black fabric was stretchy and comfortable with the expanding of her stomach, it was not elasticated enough to be pulled over the wide angle of her legs. The baby sat so low, right at her entrance, stretching her entrance wide with the emerging crown. There was no way in hell she would be able to put her legs closer together.
Instead, she widened them further. “Hmngh! Can’t… baby… coming…I have to pushhhh-mnghhhh!” Laura’s face sunk towards the floor, dropping to her elbows and opening up her hips to the skies. It was coming out, she could feel it sliding slowly out of her into her stretchy clothing. All she could do was push…. Pant and push again.
Char watched in utter fascination as Laura pushed with total abandonment, entirely consumed with the baby coming out of her, every last thought focused on the overwhelming, intense, undeniable urge to push. The bulge in Laura’s pants grew, stretched her thinly and Char could scarcely believe that such a huge head could come from her, pass through such a narrow opening with so much force. She removed her fingers from Laura’s waistline, realizing the impossibility of such a task at this stage in Laura’s labor. She was pushing it out into her pants, and there was nothing Char could do about that except cup the growing bulge as it emerged from Laura’s opening into the straining fabric.
It was terrifying, watching Laura push without regard for anything else. As she felt a powerful contraction wrack her own reddened, exhausted belly, she knew there was no stopping this. She was giving birth and was about to push a baby out into her pants exactly as Laura was doing now. She growled fiercely, deep in her squat—the perfect position. Her knees jackknifed and she opened her hips as wide as they could go. Against her opening the fabric of her underwear arched with the coming head as she bore down immensely. Her face turned bright red with her hardest push yet.
“Oh GODDDD!” She bellowed. “It’s COMING, I’m pushing it OOUUUTTTT!”
Her lips parted, wider and wider, trembling and convulsing around the head as it burned and stretched her. She jerked, trying to escape the ring of fire and yet she couldn’t stop pushing for a minute. She was in the final stages now, and the only way the burn would stop was when she had pushed her baby into the world. Instinct took over completely. This was what her body needed her to do. This was what SHE needed to do.
Even though they were consumed with their own births, Laura found comfort that at least they were together through this. Each laboring woman was not alone.
But the strength required to birth these babies, who didn’t even exist 24 hours ago, would be down to the mother. Gasping for air Laura pushed again with everything she had, through the pressure and pain and the burning ring of fire that had her mouth open in a silent scream. The baby’s head had to be almost out by now, surely!?
Despite being beside each other Char’s bellowing voice seemed so far away to Laura. Nothing else registered beside the baby being born into her pants. She growled with another push and suddenly yelped when the head slipped fully out.
“Oh my god oh my god…” Laura muttered over and over and pushed herself back up on her knees. She scrambled at the waistband of her elasticated trousers and pulled them down to her knees along with her underwear. Her baby, she had to get to her baby, the maternal instinct cried in her head. With a trembling hand she felt the newly born baby’s head that was now wedged between her thighs. “Hi…. baby… oh my gosh you’ve got hair!” Laura was in shock, but also in awe of what her body had just done.
It was only after the head was born that Laura properly heard the cries of her friend. “Char…” she muttered and saw the other woman squatting and huffing, red-faced, chin to chest, with an obscene bulge protruding from her clothes between her wide legs.
“Oh my god Char! Your baby is coming out!”
Had Char any piece of mind she might have answered with her customary sarcasm: oh really? I wouldn’t have guessed. Instead, the only sound that emerged from her mouth was a long lowing wail that only deepened and became more guttural as the head filled her bottom so thoroughly, and it felt as though her pelvis was creaking open to allow the massive head through. She opened slowly, barely pausing to take a breath as she bore down without repose. Dimly, she was aware of Laura’s own baby dangling between her thighs, having pushed the huge head out, and with renewed efforts Char grunted the head further and further out. Her lips tautened and thinned, red with the stretch. The head reached a full crown and for a moment Char pushed and it didn’t move, solid mass wedged tightly in her opening. She gasped, scared for a moment that it was too big, that there was no way she could push something of this size out of her body.
Then she heard Laura cooing to the head between her legs, and something stirred within her. She realized that the dread she’d been facing was being replaced with something like motherhood, her body responding naturally, automatically, to Laura’s awe and wonder. Char realized that she wanted to meet this thing she had carried inside her for a mere twenty-four hours.
“C’mon BABYYYYY!” She shouted, bearing down furiously. Her lips slipped around the head, and then—with a splash of fluids and a grunt of relief, Char freed the head into her pants.
Laura watched in fascination as Char grunted the head further and further into her clothing, it was huge. Char had been fighting this throughout the entire pregnancy and in that moment Laura understood why some women balked so much away from birth. It was hard work. But then she saw a change in her friend, the way her eyebrows furrowed with determination, the slight readjustment of her hips as she took a breath; she was no longer fighting against her body and was readying herself to meet her child.
“You can do it Char, push!” Laura called as Char bore down. She wished she could move to support her friend physically but she was still mid-way through her own rapid birth to risk moving.
Tears begun to well in her eyes at the thought of their babies, the exhaustion of labor and the stress of the last 24 hours hammering her emotions.
By the time Char had birthed the head of her baby into her pants Laura was already feeling the pangs of the next contraction and the baby’s head turned slightly in the palm of her hand. “Oohhhhh… mhhh okay okay… you ready little one?” She panted, pulling in air through her nose, widening her legs apart to steady her balance and preparing herself to push again. Both hands were between her legs when the contraction really got going and all too soon she was pushing once more and felt the shoulders stretch apart her already sore lips.
With trembling fingers, Char reached down between her legs, feeling the hard slick roundness of the head she’d just pushed out between her legs. She gasped. The aftershocks of her contraction clutched at her belly.
“Oh… oh, my—that’s a baby. I just gave birth.”
The evidence was conclusive. But she could scarcely believe that she’d pushed an entire baby through her birth canal and out into her pants. The experience she’d just been through, the effort, the haze of contractions and the hard pushes as she focused on nothing but expelling her baby, and the intense sensations throughout her body. It was all unbelievable. Inching down the waistband of her trousers, Char struggled them to her shins and sank to her knees. She panted in disbelief, feeling instinctually that this was *right,* that this was what she was meant to be doing. Her identity had irreconcilably changed to that of a mother and as she caressed the head between her legs, she felt a rush of contentment. Char was a scientist, an expert in her field, but now it all paled in comparison.
She glanced up at Laura, seeing her shock and awe mirrored in her eyes as she lifted her baby from between her legs and rested it against her chest. Laura smiled exhaustedly at her.
Char began to pant as another contraction took hold.
“Ooh—“ she exclaimed. “You’re ready…. c’mon, you’re ready to be—UGH! BORN!”
Her baby slipped between her lips with a spray of fluids and immediately she sank to the floor, sighing in immense relief.
Laura fell silent with her final pushes, holding her breath as she bore down, the head filling her palm as the shoulders squeezed their way through. She gasped another breath and pushed with everything she had, this was it, she could feel it. Come on baby…
Once the shoulders were freed Laura wasn’t expecting the speed of which the baby slipped out and the hush of fluid that came with it. Catching the slippery newborn Laura gasped, relieved and shocked, and immediately brought the babe to her chest.
“Hey…. Oh my- hey baby.” She cooed, eyes welling with tears as she looked upon this little miracle that had grown in the last 24 hours. When the baby started to cry she instinctively rocked and hushed the infant “it’s okay… you’re okay.” She said, wiping the blood and fluid off the newborn's face.
Laura had barely caught her breath back when Char started pulling down her trousers and panted heavily, a baby’s head hanging between her open legs. A second later Char was mirroring Laura’s actions and pulling her own baby to her chest and sobbing with relief.
“You did it.” Laura said softly to her friend. “We did it. I can’t believe they’re real, we just had babies.”
The Spell might currently be a scientific mystery, but as the two women sat exhausted on the floor cradling their newborns, the research could wait. For now, the scientists were in awe of the new lives they’d just birthed.
